I’ve probably mentioned this once on this blog already. And I wouldn’t be bringing it up again except for the incident.
Let’s go back.
In the beginning. Just married. Honeymoon over. Move from State A to State B completed.
Time to start the new jobs.
Morning of the first day.
Mr. G, honey is standing at the kitchen counter, slurping caffeine, all buffed and polished. Looking good. Looking fine.
Who is this man?
I stumble into the kitchen dressed for the new job — if underwear counts — and sporting a head of Wookiee hair. With only one firing brain cell, I’m not saying much. Anything, really.
I shuffle by Mr. Yum & Ready, yank open the cupboard door, pull out a vase, pour coffee into it, and shuffle away.
I’m pretty sure Mr. G, honey was thinking Who is this woman?
This was a precedent-setting moment. Because after that, Mr. G, honey makes my coffee every morning that he is in the building.
Fast forward to last week.
This is why. This is what happens when I am left to my own devices.
This is a no-brainer, single cup coffeemaker, which makes a pretty tasty cup of coffee by the way. Mr. G, honey is walking in the door, as I stand bumfuzzled over this, this, this…thing.
Me: What’s wrong with it?
Mr. G peering over my shoulder: Hm.
Me: Look at it!
Mr. G: Hm.
Me: All I did was push the button!
Mr. G turns around and hands me the gold filter thingy that goes in the basket.
Me: Oh, for God’s sake! Who needs &#%* coffee anyway?
Mr. G: Hm. (Guffaw, guffaw, guffaw)
Me: You can run, but you can’t hide.
How can a person who can assemble and install this bank of cupboards —
also be this person?
What’s wrong with this coffeemaker is the coffee maker.
FYI — Mr. G, honey and I did that assembly job together. I cannot tell a lie. Yes. I did handle the tools. No, I’m not just a pretty face. Yes, the final door is finally on. Yes, that is the width of my galley kitchen. Yes, that is the eye-popping color of my wall. That’s how I roll.
FYI 2 — Much to my delight, I do not have to post every single day about character for NaBloPoMo. However, I imagine this does say something about my character.
char•ac•ter — Feb 5