This week has, in a word, sucked. Oh, I know, this entire year has sucked, but this week sucked even compared to the rest, which is saying something. Tensions are running high and faith is being tested.
Today Otto got up before me and made coffee. I know this because I woke up to BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP, the international signal for “it is now safe to get out of bed and proceed directly to the largest mug in the house.” My darling, wonderful husband was in the shower by the time it beeped, and I all but ran into the kitchen.
And there I found a lake of coffee on the floor. The coffeemaker was in its usual spot on the counter, but the coffee POT was sitting on the edge of the sink. Otto had washed the pot, ground the beans, filled the basket, and then hit the switch without replacing the pot; eventually the filter basket overflowed and lo, the coffee streamed down the counter and onto the floor.
I beheld the tragic scene before me and burst into whoops of laughter, so loud that the dog came to see what my problem was. And then I went to tell my husband what he did. He kept trying to apologize, and between giggles I had to tell him that it was reassuring to know I’m not the only one falling apart.
Other people look at a gift of flowers or a particularly wonderful day with their spouse and know their relationship is built to last, and I mop up a giant coffee puddle and thank my lucky stars for one marvelous, barely-flawed Otto.