Me Time
I woke up this morning and turned over slowly, kicking my right leg out to my husband’s side of the bed. The sheets were cool since he’d been up more than an hour earlier and I stretched languidly. The windows were open so I lay there quietly listening to the birds sing and Lucy’s, our elderly doggie, snore. I smiled as I always do and thanked God for waking me gently and I said my morning prayers in perfect peace.
I tossed the covers off me after a few minutes and got out of the bed headed to the bathroom for my morning constitution and then returned to the bed for a few more minutes of quiet. I turned my iPad on and scanned my emails stopping at the email from my producer and friend, Elvin, and then clicked out of email and went to the Facebook app to see what, if any, notifications I had.
I had 42 notifications and I scrolled down them to see if there was anything I needed to look at and then I heard my husband come up the stairs. As he always does. Every.single.morning. Armed with a cup of piping hot coffee and the creamer I liked in my coffee that I enjoy, as my friend Kari says, “center of the sun hot.”
He walks into the room and walks purposefully to my side of the bed where he places my coffee down on my nightstand and waits as I sit up in bed so that I could put the amount of creamer in the coffee cup that I like. It takes a while you see…because my eyes have gone bad and I measure my creamer by sight…not by spoonful.
Yes, you read that right. I know what color it’s going to be in order that it’s perfect for me and I tip the creamer bottle slowly adding dribbles of creamer and stirring slowly as the color comes to life for me.
And it always drives my husband crazy because he drinks his coffee black so he doesn’t understand this careful dance because hey…one slight slip of the wrist and too much of the creamer will be poured in and my coffee will be a milky color and not the lovely color of a square of caramel I desire it to be. And honestly…NOBODY wants me to not have coffee in the morning. NOBODY.
“Good morning.” I say to my husband. This obviously adoring man who poured me a cup of coffee and brought it to me in bed as he does every.single.morning and waits as I do my coffee creamer dance so he can head back downstairs and put the creamer in the fridge.
“Something in the refrigerator stinks. We need to clean it out.”
That’s how he responds to my smiling “good morning” and my eyes shutter and my lips become a hard lined slit as my annoyance level is spiked because really…we all know that WE ain’t got shit to do with HIM. WE is ME. Plain and simple. What he should have said was…”Hey…you need to clean out the fridge cuz it stinks. I’ll be in the office working and watching CNBC while you do it. Cool? Love ya babe. Oh yeah…and we’re out of eggs so I’m having oatmeal for breakfast so add eggs to your list.”
That’s what he SHOULD have said.
And then…he bends down and snuggles me. Munching me softly at my neck and hugging me tightly. “I love you.”
My response? “I love you too honey. Have you had a good morning so far? What’s going on in the world?”
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This is just a teaser of something coming. Don't be mad Tuan. :)
