Jan. 28th, 2003
inheritance
Jan. 28th, 2003 11:31 pmI am still surrounded by boxes, after all these weeks. A certain luxurious and beautiful house inertia inspired by a woman named Svetlana has given way to the fear that an esteemed houseguest this weekend will run screaming from my home on sight, and will certainly want hotel accomodations if I don't get cracking and unpacking a bit more.
I am slogging through boxes, leaving lots still packed up for later ornamentation/giving away/throwing away. I've been releasing books like crazy to increase my bookshelf at bookcrossing.com and reduce my real-life bookshelves at home.
There's a box of glassware I just came upon, full of the odd shotglass, the Irish coffee glassware picked up willy nilly, the prom favors of high school. In with the knick-knacky kitschy drink stuff are delicate, resonant martini glasses, and a solid, pleasingly heavy and substantial set of highball glasses.
I did not buy these, Scott did. But like so many odd things he left behind, he abandoned the glassware - the sets of glasses for alcohol we never really drank. He was a whore to Crate and Barrel and Restoration Hardware, certainly, and so that's why our buffet in the old apartment was chock-full of wine glasses and pretty blue glass water glasses ...
It feels like a strange inheritance, when all is said and done. The smooth and cool solid bases to the glasses heavy in my hand, never used for their intended purpose. So much left undone, so much potential left for display, never for use.
It's a strange gift, to be sure.
Fill up my glass, bartender. Life is no longer just around the corner.