Monday, November 20, 2017

A Meditation on the Fanta Can that Jim Left on His Dresser Upstairs

The can in question.

Not too long ago, I had the following conversation with Jim.

“Would you be upset if I blogged about the can of Fanta that you left on your dresser?” I asked him.

“You’re a memoirist. I can’t tell you not to write about your life,” Jim said.

“So…is that a yes?”

“If you ripped me apart on your blog, I’d be upset,” Jim admitted. This, I believe, was an understatement. Jim, like most men, is very sensitive, which is why I’ve hesitated to blog about the Fanta can that he left on his dresser upstairs.

I can’t tell you how long the Fanta can has been sitting on the dresser. I didn’t exactly write down in my diary, Jim left a Fanta can on the dresser today, so I don’t really know, but it’s been awhile – we’re talking a couple of months, at least. So, it’s been long enough that the responsibility for the can is as much mine as it is Jim’s. Sure, he left the can on the dresser, but I’ve looked at it every day for weeks and haven’t thrown it away. I’d like to believe that it’s the principal of the thing – the second or third time Jim ever came to my house, I pointed out that he was messy and asked him to clean up after himself more, which he has done a pretty good job of, Fanta can notwithstanding. I tell myself that I'm involved in a Fanta-can-related standoff, refusing to throw away the Fanta can because it's not my damn can.

But that's not really true, because Jim has left other soda cans in the bedroom, and I’ve thrown those cans away, which has been pretty easy, because there’s a waste basket right there next to the bed.

I haven’t thrown the Fanta can away because it still has some Fanta in it.

I remember clearly the day that I picked up the Fanta can, intending to throw it in the waste basket that’s right there, two feet away, but as soon as I lifted it, I felt the familiar, sloshy weight of liquid in the bottom of the can. Oh, I thought, I have to take this downstairs and empty it first.

That seemed like a lot of work, so instead, I just set the can back on the dresser. And I guess Jim thought the same thing, because he’s never thrown away the Fanta can either. At this point, it's just become a part of the decor. 

This is how we live now.