My feet are on the edge of the coffee table, pressed against the dark wood frame that supports the beveled glass tabletop. There's a cold bottle of Paulaner Radler sweating on to a pad of post-its instead of a coaster. Just out of reach, scattered closer to the easy chair than the couch where I sit, are all 4 remotes needed to use our Apple TV: The one that came with the actual television, the one that came with the cable box, and the one that came with the sound bar speakers, and the tiny, sleek one from apple.
Below the glass, on a wide shelf are two stacks of books, separated by a pottery bowl, glazed in browns and crystalline blues around the edges, its center wine.
On the left:
Adventures of Luke Skywalker
Frieda & Diego: Art, Love, Life
Hardcover photo books of our travels: Peru, Japan, Spain
The Wes Anderson Collection
I move my feet. The hard edge is painful, and I can't see the spines of the other books.
On the right:
Strunk & White's Elements of Style, Illustrated
New Enclyopedia of Wine
The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore
Transit Maps of the World
Paris, Then & Now
Fifty Favorite Climbs
Set hastily on top of the right-hand pile, the one that's most in hand, Billy Collins' Sailing Alone Around the Room.