Coffee, tea or me?
I’m drinking my nightly cup of tea. I almost got up to make it for myself tonight but then I thought: Well now, why would I go and do that?
I waited til R was finished working on the computer and then asked with a pout, “Where’s my tea?” Like it never occurred to me that I could, in fact, make my own damn tea.
I know. I’m spoiled.
Very emotionally spoiled, don’t get it twisted. I jewelry shop at Target, I have a serious aversion to paying more than $20 for a pair of shoes and finding a really great bargain does something to my soul that’s akin to going to church.
But getting my own way? Oh hell yes. Whine until I don’t? Check. Blame someone else for something I did - even when it’s blatantly obvious I’m the wrong doer? ( Maybe not so ) ashamedly, yes.
I’m the youngest of 9 children. To think I wouldn’t have things go my way a time or two as long as I whined enough, well, that’s silly.
My brother J is 2 years older than me and I used to boss him around like a pint-sized tyrannical bitch. If I needed something across the room and didn’t feel like getting up to get it, I’d make J come get it for me. There J would be, clear on the other side of our parent’s house and he’d trot along to do my bidding.
I never even would take the time to grab a towel out of the linen closet on my way to take a shower. Without fail, every time I needed a towel I’d yell down the hallway for one. J would huff, puff… and bring me a damn towel.
Oh no, he was never happy about it, of course. But every time I’d yell enough, there would be the towel shoved through the crack in the bathroom door. I’d snatch it away and shut the door again - not even so much as a thank you half the time.
One time when I must have been about 11 or 12, J had apparently had enough. I yelled and yelled to no avail. I must have yelled for 10 minutes straight. Freezing, no towel over my dripping wet hair and yelling like a banshee. Alas, the towel never did come. I learned a hard lesson that day: people have their limits.
That shouldn’t have surprised me. What I realize now, many years later, is how differing limit levels can be - depending on the person.
Me? My limit time span lasts as long as a bolt of lightning. It comes and it leaves - quickly. R is much more patient than I. A flea is probably much more patient than I.
Take the other day for example. R normally always makes the coffee in the morning. Yes, I know, shut up. He makes it better. He does!
Okay, hold on. I’m feeling a vibe of skepticism here. It’s actually R’s fault that I find making coffee beyond my realm of comprehension. He’s brought it on himself by consistently brewing a better cup, forevermore being forced into making it.
It all started when he threw my coffee scooper away 2 years ago. You know how long I had that thing? Years, people. Granted, it was some cheap plastic scoop but it was the perfect measurement tool. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, one scoop made 2 cups of coffee. I could not, and did not, mess up the coffee - ever.
I made great coffee, perfectly blended coffee. House guests would come from miles around to stay with me, just to taste my wonderful coffee in the morning. Sigh. Those were the days…
Now with the scoop gone, I’m lost. I put too much in, I’m making mud. I ease up, now it’s coffee flavored water. Personally, I’d rather have the mud.
The night before this particular day that I was speaking of, before lamenting the loss of the most perfect coffee scoop ever, R didn’t get much sleep at all. Tossing and turning. Getting up to watch TV in the living room as to not disturb my slumber. Crawling back into bed quietly, to once again attempt some shut eye.
That morning, R was not getting up to make that coffee no matter how much noise I made. No matter how many times I left the bathroom door open and the light would beam in his face. He didn’t even stir when I blew dry my hair - and I didn’t even wash my hair that day. I was SO irritated.
What? Make the coffee myself?
I totally would have, but I was running late. I didn’t even have time to put any makeup on besides Carmex (my latest addiction, to hell with Lip Glass, I say! P.S. Told y’all I was cheap!!) and some powder, and that’s only because it was in my purse.
I race out of the house, pissed that TODAY of ALL days, I have no coffee. What was R thinking? Was he not thinking? No, obviously, he most assuredly was not.
I’m on the freeway for a few minutes when I see I have a text message. It’s from R.
I think to myself, “What the hell! If he was going to get up 5 minutes after I left, why didn’t he just get up and make the GODFORSAKEN COFFEE?!”
His text: Good luck today.
Me: Thanks for the coffee.
Yes, I know, bitchy. I will say that I did hesitate typing it. Actually, I had no problem with the actual typing of the message but my finger did momentarily hover over the “send” key.
Even in my impaired no-caffeine-having capacity, I knew it was nice of him to think of me, to tell me good luck. To completely bite his head off would be … mean. And wrong. I CAN ADMIT IT.
I still sent the text though.
I worried over what he’d type back. I wondered if this was going to start a huge fight. I visibly shuddered (could have been caffeine withdrawal) at the thought of bickering over coffee being our deal breaker.
Can’t you just see it? This fight would escalate and escalate til we ultimately would have no choice but to go our separate ways. People would ask: Why did you guys break up? And my stunned reply would be: Coffee…
A few minutes go by and no text from R. A few more minutes go by, still no text from R. With each passing moment, I grew more wary. I’m thinking I probably really overstepped the line this time. It’s not going to help that he’s tired, and even R can be grumpy when he’s that tired. This is not good, not good at all.
I thought of what my reply text would be, under similar circumstances. What would I reply to me, if I were R, and I was being a total bitch. Only one thought came to mind and it was something along the lines of: Fuck you, you fucking fuck!
Just when I began to break a sweat at the thought of unwillingly being thrust back onto the dating scene after a glorious, joyous, all around wondrous 3 1/2 year hiatus… R texted back.
R: lol… you should have woken me up, silly.
Bless that man’s heart. Bless it and keep it. They don’t come any more patient than him. I’m so making the coffee tomorrow morning. And the tea tomorrow night.
Well. Maybe just the tea.
P.S. My new theme song: