Beauty and the Beast

This is Dean's favorite glass.  I think it came in a box of garage sale "treasures".  If I would have known he'd pick this lovely item as his special drinking glass I would have done a better job scoping out the boxes of junk before he had a chance to paw through them.  But really, who would think anybody in their right mind would choose this glass and allow it to take up space in their cupboard?

I've given up trying to figure out why he loves it so much.  I hate it.  Every time I open the cupboard door and see it sitting there, big as you please, smug and staring at me like it belongs there, shivers run down my spine.  It's ugly.  And it's not ugly as in, "oh, that puppy is so ugly it's cute."  It's just ugly.  I want to drop it on the floor or "lose" it in the garbage every time I see it sitting on the counter waiting to be washed.  I slam that sucker in the dishwasher.  I use no caution picking it up if my hands are slippery with soap suds.  I've "accidentally" knocked it against the sink on it's way to the dishwasher but I haven't even managed that glass seems to be made of steel.

Why is it that the dish I wash and dry by hand; the dish my mother always served us all mashed potatoes in; the dish I didn't want to break, is the one I did.  This morning.  It fell out of the dish rack and hit the countertop.  There was no fixing it.  I considered placing it back in its special place on the shelf behind the glass-faced cupboard, turning the chip away so I wouldn't see it and pretending like it hadn't happened.  But I know, every time I looked into that cupboard I would remember and feel bad all over again.  So..........in the trash it went.  I know if my mom was still here she would say, "it was just a bowl."  But it was the potato bowl.

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Beauty and the Beast