I’m not a fan of glass.
When I think about glass I think about what a klutz I am and how hard it is to clean without a single smudge or smear left behind. Car windows, mirrors, those damned glass tables my mother gave me years ago.
Lovely, little, low side tables, one panel of glass atop, one below. Pain In The Glass pretty tables, they are. The only way a creature such as myself can get them really, truly dazzlingly clean is to take the 20 x 20 glass inserts out and carefully tote them to the sink and wash them ever so carefully with dish soap and carefully, using a towel to grasp the edges, lean them against a wall lined with towels until they dry, and then with gloved hands, carefully place them back in the frame. My nerves. Oh my nerves.
When we moved here, I said FUCK IT and began using them outside. A watering can, an old rag, and a bit of cleaner. Streaks? Who cares? Clean enough for outside. Fine enough to set down your glass.
I gave one to the boy one a few weeks ago. I hope he enjoys cleaning it. Family Tradition.
Just Jot It January and Stream of Consciousness Saturday ‘glass’ are brought to you by LindaGHill
joeyfullystated 
HaHA! It is a very pretty glass table, but like you, I am not to be trusted around glass due to my klutziness!
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I like glass, but it does not like me. It insists are collecting dust and allowing itself to be nicked. I’d take it personally, but I know that would be silly.
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Tradition. Love it. Some years ago we bought a coffee table. It was a round piece of glass perched upon 3 white ceramic rabbits. A bit of whimsy; don’t you know. Well we used it for a while and then retired it. The glass top is now on a patio table. Two of the rabbits are now brown and are hiding around the living room. The third rabbit got messed up by our then dog. Sonny Arlo; the Cocker. I was never too worried about keeping the glass “squeaky clean”. Enjoy your weekend.
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A bit of whimsy can be so charming, and so is the idea that the bunnies are still hidin out chez vous!
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I have one glass vase. Gift from a friend, long past. Its one of those ’60s gold glass, tall af, slightly curved ones that were all the rage back in the day.
It sits on my top shelf, & I never touch it & it has nothing in it cuz it looks nice as is.
Ill take it down to clean/dust it when I cant see through it. 😛
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I love a good vase. One day I’ll tell my vase story to the world. 🙂
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Oh, glass tables! Severed arteries just waitin’ to happen! My hair is stickin’ up all over my body, just thinkin’ about it.
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I understand! I’ve never cut myself on those panels (thank tacos, knock wood) but I took the panes out of my china cabinet and slice up my forearm right good! I won’t do it again, which is why the inside of my china cabinet doors are still primer white and the rest of it is cream.
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Glass tables – yeah, that’ll never happen here. Nothing should ever require that much cleaning, unless it’s gonna grow up some day and clean my house.
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Heh.
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A half dozen moves ago, several pieces of furniture were included in the purchase – a glass topped coffee table and matching end tables. Very elegant and chic. And enormous PITAs to keep clean and treacherous to move. They too spent time on the patio before I parked them at the curb on trash day.
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I like the change in perspective in this piece.
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Cleaning glass – UGH. I’ve never once in my entire life managed to clean glass without leaving streaks…
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When it’s shiny and clean, a glass top table looks so good. Too bad it lasts only a nanosecond.
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I hate glass as well.
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I happen to like glass! My Mom used a lot around the house for decor and crockery – so I guess I warmed up to it. But after having broken a couple, I keep them far far away!
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I’m just too clumsy. Much more wood and HEAVY pottery for me 🙂
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Glass tables ought to be illegal.
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Our front door is mostly glass. I’ve neglected cleaning it for a few days and you can see the little fingerprints about two and a half feet up all over. Maybe I’ll clean it tomorrow.
This post prompt kind of makes me want to write about what I used to call “Dead Glasses” — glasses my grandma got after my great aunt passed that I refused to drink out of because I was freaked out.
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Here, if it’s not fingerprints, it’s dozens of noseprints!
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