(um, leave it to me to misspell uncoordinated. yeesh. I'm leaving it, since it's so apt.)
This morning was a tense morning, as Carl had to get a huge list of things done in order to be some place later on in the afternoon, and he was practically vibrating with energy. He usually wakes up with the sun (not something that came naturally, but learned after years of being in construction), while I am firmly convinced that there really shouldn't be any acquaintence with the sun until noonish. At the earliest. So I wasn't the brightest bulb around early this morning as I stumbled after him in my attempt to help, or at least keep him company, while he did all of his errands. I am also not the world's most articulate person in the morning, unless you call grunting a discourse, and if so, I'm a scholar. So when he urged me to hurry up to get out of the car (he was trying to drop me off at the front door of a business and he sort of wanted me to hurry in there and beat the other customers who were lining up so we could get in and out quickly, and I say "sort of" because the man has been married to me for 22 years and hasn't completely gone mad in thinking I'm going to move fast in the morning for anything short of fire, and even that's iffy because I don't so much mind the heat)... well, anyway, when he got the car parked and got inside, he noticed I had a large brown stain developing just over my left breast where I had spilled diet Coke as I was trying to get out of the car. I was not exactly a happy camper about this, as the shirt was a very pale blue and the brown stain rather obvious and I looked like my breast had sprung a nasty leak. Which reminded him of the restaurant a couple of nights prior when I had tried to move a bowl of dipping sauce from one spot on the table to another, when it started to slip out of my hands and I don't exactly know what happened, I just sort of have this multiple-stepped-image in my head of that bowl doing acrobatics before it landed first on my breasts and then flipped onto the floor, neatly spattering patrons four tables away. He started to tease me that he couldn't take me anywhere and then, realizing it was quite a bit before noon and before I became actually human, he decided that hugging me would be a better option; hence, he lives still. About thirty minutes later, we were in a restaurant when I looked down and realized I had spilled part of my breakfast onto the other breast. Another nice brown stain, but somewhat smaller and for crying out loud, my boobs really aren't that big, I don't know what the problem is. I was hoping he hadn't noticed and I tried to act nonchalant and saw him trying to not notice, so we talked about other things. Wherein I promptly managed to drop a strawberry -- complete with juice and whipped cream -- in the center of my shirt. By this point, he was trying so hard not to laugh, that I just gave up and said, "Why don't I just grab it with both hands and mush it around on my chest just to get it over with." Which, of course, delighted him, and I got that wicked grin that I love. And I would have, too, but that would have been strawberry abuse, and even in the morning, I have a little sense.
Posted by toni at July 24, 2004 09:44 PM