Type Dancing

A Dream of Beans

Coffee is an important start to my morning. Has been for years. During the week, when I have to be on time for work, I set up the coffee maker the night before. It has a timer, which I can set for exactly 10 minutes before I expect to be up. When I wake up the next morning, the smells of freshly-brewed French Roast fills the house. It is easier for me to get up knowing the coffee is already made and smelling so good. I get out of bed and bring Dave coffee, usually in bed.

On weekends, I get lazy. I often don't set the coffee up the night before because Dave and I have stayed up late to finish a good movie, or gone out with friends. So, on Saturday or Sunday morning, whoever is the first one to feel the caffeine withdrawal most strongly, makes a pot. I look forward to the possibility that on weekends, it might be Dave who gets out of bed first, and makes the coffee, and then brings it to me when it is brewed. I have inherited the tendency from my mother to be a night person, huddled under the covers at night with a flashlight, reading the latest engrossing novel. The unfortunate side-effect of such a wonderful trait is that I, and my mother, are not morning people. We need an extra boost to get our brains in gear before noon. I remember bringing coffee to my mother every school morning before boarding the bus during high school. Is it wrong to ask as much for myself on weekends?

But I love my coffee even more than I love my bed in the "early" hours. So, I stumble to the kitchen between 7:00 and 8:00 to brew the coffee. I am usually awake enough to do this-- usually. I've gotten quite good at going through the correct motions in coffee making even when half asleep. Unfortunately, Dave does not have the extensive experience that I do in these early morning coffee makings. Yesterday morning, Dave gets out of bed first. He lets Cocoa upstairs and goes to the kitchen to make coffee. I hear him turn on the water tap. Good. He's making the coffee. Then I tune out and go about my business. Several minutes later, I am preparing Cocoa's medicine in the kitchen, and Dave comes in to get the coffee. He pours some into his white Emulex motion mug. He begins to laugh. I look at him. He is just staring into his mug, his shoulders shaking. "I forgot the beans," he says. "No worries. I'll make some actual coffee now." I am snickering. At least the coffee maker is a little cleaner now that all that hot water when through. Sort of.

I sigh and trudge up to the writing room to do my morning pages without coffee. Something I haven't had to bear for quite some time. But I am so amused that my perfectly in-control husband has forgotten something so vital, that I am quite awake by the time Dave brings me actual coffee twenty minutes later.

Thank you, Dave.