Don’t Pour Me a Cup

Don’t Pour Me a Cup

My husband figured out something about me that he thought rather strange. (You’d think he’d have learned enough by now to not be shocked by anything.)

You see, usually I am the one who fixes the coffee. When it is ready, I get my own ready and he does whatever it is he does to his coffee. Rarely has it been a situation where he would fix it for me. Not because he doesn’t want to. It is just that ….hey, let’s face it, I am a coffee snob. He would just rather not go there. But now he says I took it too far. You judge. This is our conversation:

Clint: You want a cup of coffee?

Me: Sure, but I’ll fix it.

Clint: That’s okay, I’ll pour some for you.

Me: Thanks, but really, you don’t have to.

Clint: Hey, I am being nice here. Just let me pour you some coffee.

Me: (hesitant, but agreeable) Well, okay.

He reaches for a coffee cup.

Me: No! Not that one.

Reaches for another.

Me: Nope. Not that one either.

Clint: Is there something wrong with these cups?

Me: No. It’s just that I don’t want those cups for this coffee.

Clint: And why not?

Me: I’m not feeling it.

Clint: Excuse me??

Me: My coffee cup has to fit my mood.

(Now I am getting that look.)

Clint: Let me get this straight. You won’t drink your coffee out of one of these perfectly good coffee cups because you’re not ‘feeling it’? Your mood isn’t fitting with one of the cups I chose? Is that what you are saying?

Me: Yes.

Clint: So which coffee cup would fit your mood?

Me: (I point to one.) Well, that one does. Or maybe that one (pointing to another). Well, no, not that second one, but that one (pointing to a third), that one will work.

(long pause while (I am guessing) he is pondering the cost of mental health care and the effect it would have on our budget.)

Clint: How about you pour your own coffee.

Me: Okay. I tried to tell you.

(that look)

Me: “I’m just saying…!” I shout to the back of his head as he walks away.


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