Oversleeping. Running out of dog food. Realizing you don’t have any baggies to pack your lunch in but it doesn’t matter, because you forgot to buy bread anyway. Stepping on the dog’s bone and skidding four feet on the hardwood, pulling your hamstring in the process.
These are the hallmarks of a typical Monday morning, are they not? They are at my house.
I’m going to add one more to the Monday pileup and that is tipping your coffee cup over on the sink and onto the bathroom floor—and everywhere else.
I had just finished putting on makeup yesterday in our bathroom and reached for my towel and makeup bag. I caught the edge of the bag on the coffee cup and tipped over the entire cup of deliciousness, and it splashed everywhere.
There was steaming hot, tasty coffee dripping off the sink and onto the floor. The closed toilet lid. The front of the shower, the rug I was standing on, and of course my clean dress pants.
Like all Mondays (and actually every single day, to be honest, who am I kidding) I was in a dreadful hurry. I quickly threw my shower towel onto the sink top to sop up the coffee, then flung the towel on the floor and foot mopped quickly, promising myself that I’d clean it up more thoroughly later when I had time. I had wiped up most of the coffee mess, after all.
Because I’m over fifty, I forgot it happened even before I left the house for work.
Fast forward to this morning. My husband and I were having morning coffee in the living room and watching Good Morning America, and I suddenly remembered the coffee incident. I laughed at the memory. “Do you know what I did yesterday morning?” I asked him. “I accidentally tipped my coffee over in the downstairs bathroom,” I giggled. “You should have seen it. What a mess.”
Dear husband’s comments are still ringing in my ears.
“Oh, is THAT what that was? I saw there were little brown splashes here and there all over the bathroom floor. I opened the lid of the toilet and thought maybe you just had an accident. Don’t worry. I cleaned it all up.”
“Wait. You what now?” I stared at him. Me, have an accident? That I left there sitting there without CLEANING?
I dimly remember that yes, the coffee did spill on the top of the toilet lid and although I did swipe at that with a towel, I never actually opened the lid. Apparently the coffee had curved around under the lid and was all over the seat. I pictured it in my head and yes, GROSS.
He nodded. “Well, yeah. I was going to go to the bathroom and before I sat down, I saw the mess and thought you had an accident and didn’t get a chance to clean it up.”
My mouth is still hanging open. I have NEVER.
And what I find most amazing about this is that my long-suffering husband just cleaned up after my perceived “mess” and never said a word to me until I bought up the spilled coffee. Poor Chris and her loose bowels. Let me just mop up after the poor feeble dear.*
AS IF.
“That was spilled coffee,” I grumbled. “A full cup, too.” The conversation made me giggle, though. I may have pulled a muscle skidding, ran out of baggies and bread, and spilled coffee–but my long-suffering husband had my back and bravely cleaned it up–even thinking it was something else.
Laughing makes even Monday mornings tolerable.
*let’s be clear, dear Reader. I do not have bowel issues, my bathroom is always clean, and I’m certainly not feeble.
Christine Cacciatore, Author 