Coffee Mates - October 12, 2016
My hubs, Laurence, and I have our routines.
Laurence makes the coffee before he goes to bed – and that is paired with giving our two fostered cats – Wallace and Willis – a Whiskas treat.
Laurence is wise to do this since otherwise I will haul him out of bed at 6:30 in the morning to make the coffee (since I “don’t know how”), and the two Ws might otherwise howl at us until their ritual treat-time was complete.
I get out of bed at 6:30 in the morning, turn on the coffee, (feed the cats,) and bring Laurence his morning orange juice along with a handful of pills that are supposed to be good for his various parts. I then unload the dishwasher and, by then, the coffee is brewed and I take him his first cuppa joe.
You don’t realize how important these small acts of – if not kindness then assurance - are…until you neglect to do them.
We stayed over night at my mom’s (Grannie Marj’s) on Wednesday evening. Thursday morning, I got up and cracked open a box of orange juice for myself, and made me a Keurig coffee. Yum yum. Shortly thereafter I went out for my morning jog-walk and shortly after returning, my husband stumbled down the stairs in his jammees and looked at me with great concern.
“Jannie, you didn’t bring me my morning orange juice or my morning coffee and it’s already 8:10!”
“Laurie, why didn’t you just come down and get it?”
“Well, when it didn’t arrive I thought the time was wrong so I went back to sleep, and then when it didn’t arrive I thought, maybe my wife is sleeping in. And then when it still didn’t arrive, I realized, “She forgot all about me!” He looked like an abandoned puppy, er, old dog.
Worst wife ever… I responded, “But I didn’t want to wake up you!” (This was partly true.) And he said, “That never stops you at home!” This is very true. He got his orange juice and his coffee and went back to bed – but not without giving me that look that says, “I thought you loved me…”
Gah! And I’m ashamed to confess, this is not my first coffee infidelity! There were a few others, all of the same nature, until someone spilled the beans.
Well over a decade ago, our oldest daughter Anna had a summer job at a pharmacy in Val Caron – a 30-minute drive but an hour plus bus ride. We were quite happy to give her a ride out in the morning – a) because we liked our daughter, and b) even more incentive, there was a Tim Horton’s within spitting distance. We took turns driving Anna and getting two coffees – one for hubs, one for me.
(Yes, I know there was a Tim Horton’s just down the street from us in Sudbury, but we only drink Tim’s if we are traveling. It doesn’t have to be far – it just has to be farther than a usual errand.)
Every day Laur got a medium coffee with cream and I got a large decaff with milk (and a half teaspoon of sugar. Wild I know.) Or at least that’s what Laur got and he THOUGHT I got. Until one day at the Val Caron’s Tim’s, our usual server said to my husband, “Your wife normally gets an EXTRA large decaff!” “No!” he replied, “She always gets just a large.” The woman shrugged her shoulders at Laurence and smiled.
Laur arrived home, brought my extra large decaff to me and said, “I didn’t know you got an extra large!” and then recounted his revelation that morning. I shrugged and smiled; Laur said, looking like a cuckholded husband, “Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”
*****
Roasted!
Laurence makes the coffee before he goes to bed – and that is paired with giving our two fostered cats – Wallace and Willis – a Whiskas treat.
Laurence is wise to do this since otherwise I will haul him out of bed at 6:30 in the morning to make the coffee (since I “don’t know how”), and the two Ws might otherwise howl at us until their ritual treat-time was complete.
I get out of bed at 6:30 in the morning, turn on the coffee, (feed the cats,) and bring Laurence his morning orange juice along with a handful of pills that are supposed to be good for his various parts. I then unload the dishwasher and, by then, the coffee is brewed and I take him his first cuppa joe.
You don’t realize how important these small acts of – if not kindness then assurance - are…until you neglect to do them.
We stayed over night at my mom’s (Grannie Marj’s) on Wednesday evening. Thursday morning, I got up and cracked open a box of orange juice for myself, and made me a Keurig coffee. Yum yum. Shortly thereafter I went out for my morning jog-walk and shortly after returning, my husband stumbled down the stairs in his jammees and looked at me with great concern.
“Jannie, you didn’t bring me my morning orange juice or my morning coffee and it’s already 8:10!”
“Laurie, why didn’t you just come down and get it?”
“Well, when it didn’t arrive I thought the time was wrong so I went back to sleep, and then when it didn’t arrive I thought, maybe my wife is sleeping in. And then when it still didn’t arrive, I realized, “She forgot all about me!” He looked like an abandoned puppy, er, old dog.
Worst wife ever… I responded, “But I didn’t want to wake up you!” (This was partly true.) And he said, “That never stops you at home!” This is very true. He got his orange juice and his coffee and went back to bed – but not without giving me that look that says, “I thought you loved me…”
Gah! And I’m ashamed to confess, this is not my first coffee infidelity! There were a few others, all of the same nature, until someone spilled the beans.
Well over a decade ago, our oldest daughter Anna had a summer job at a pharmacy in Val Caron – a 30-minute drive but an hour plus bus ride. We were quite happy to give her a ride out in the morning – a) because we liked our daughter, and b) even more incentive, there was a Tim Horton’s within spitting distance. We took turns driving Anna and getting two coffees – one for hubs, one for me.
(Yes, I know there was a Tim Horton’s just down the street from us in Sudbury, but we only drink Tim’s if we are traveling. It doesn’t have to be far – it just has to be farther than a usual errand.)
Every day Laur got a medium coffee with cream and I got a large decaff with milk (and a half teaspoon of sugar. Wild I know.) Or at least that’s what Laur got and he THOUGHT I got. Until one day at the Val Caron’s Tim’s, our usual server said to my husband, “Your wife normally gets an EXTRA large decaff!” “No!” he replied, “She always gets just a large.” The woman shrugged her shoulders at Laurence and smiled.
Laur arrived home, brought my extra large decaff to me and said, “I didn’t know you got an extra large!” and then recounted his revelation that morning. I shrugged and smiled; Laur said, looking like a cuckholded husband, “Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”
*****
Roasted!