You were vintage and cool. I got you for a quarter at a yard sale in Olean, New York, in the 1980's and we had a very long thing together, travelling from place to place until we got here. But recently, seemingly out of nowhere, you developed a crack in your side. Or maybe it was always there, it just got more pronounced with time. And I didn't want to toss you out because you still held water, you were beautiful, and I am cheap. But tonight, after making roasted root vegetables with the produce I got at the Union Square Greenmarket, I washed you/dried you /stacked you between two dishes that you couldn't handle, and you crapped yourself for good, and a large piece of you fractured off and fell onto the floor. I'm sad, but I realize that you needed to break up with me. What's wrong with me, keeping a broken bowl around? For some reason, I just couldn't break up with you. I guess I loved you too much, damage and all. It's fine, just a part of life. No bigs. We'll be facebook friends! One day. Promise.
Goodbye, bowl! Enjoy the landfill. Make it nice!