i'm sorry to report that yesterday afternoon, whilst coming in to the kitchen with my hands full, i tripped over the @#$%* cat and my favorite coffee mug hit the floor. it make a loud noise and broke into a few pieces. i picked up the pieces and i cried, and then i tried to superglue it all back together, but a few shards came up missing. i sat in my studio breathing glue fumes and listening to the cat chase a lone ceramic fragment around the kitchen floor.
we've had some good times together, this mug and i. if you've never felt what The Perfect Mug feels like, you may not understand, but everything about this one was Just Right. it was handmade by my dad, and was the perfect weight and pleasing shape and color. every day, despite a cabinet full of other vessels, i drank my coffee out of this mug. and most days, since i couldn't empty the coffeepot before leaving to work, i took the mug in the car, finished my coffee, and tucked the mug lovingly into my sneaker as i changed into my kitchen clogs and headed off to work. a few times the mug came to work with me. he was admired by everyone, and i think i pre-sold at least half a dozen mugs for my dad whenever he sends more. but i was always afraid that my mug would meet his doom among all that stainless steel, and it was just too risky. little did i know the true end would be a harmless-looking linoleum floor.
my broken friend will now have a place of honor on my desk, where i will try not to cut my finger on the pokey triangular gap as i use it to hold writing implements. i'll miss you, old friend. you were a good mug.
