Wednesday, July 29, 2015

 July 29, 2015

As you may recall, my beloved has a cell phone. In fact, he’s had it for about a year, now. I think the only thing he doesn’t do on it is talk. He may have had a couple of conversations to date, but mostly he’ll use it to keep up on the weather, and to text.

And in the last six months or so, he and I have gotten into the habit of texting each other a couple of times a day. Every work day, he is up and out of the house long before I am awake. And although he has for the last couple of years left me a cute little note most mornings, we look forward to these little missives back and forth each day. For me they’re mostly a source of comfort, support, and tangible evidence of our ongoing loving relationship.

Mostly, but not always.

A week ago yesterday was my birthday. I was kept busy—and gratefully so—most of the day thanking people for their birthday wishes to me, posted on my FaceBook page. I had decided that little writing would take place that day, but I do more than write every day. Most days I say I’m multi-tasking, which is alternating between writing and getting the housework done, and making supper. Now, you need to know that my poor beloved is working long hours right now—from 6:30 in the morning until 7:15 at night, not arriving home until 8 p.m. There is no way I am asking him to do any housework when he gets home. The only thing I do ask is that he waters the plants once a week and takes care of the garbage containers.

I tell you this so that you understand I am not a complete shrew.

But on my birthday last week, I had a slight mishap and I dropped my very favorite coffee mug, one that had been my favorite for several years. There are two cups in the house that I use for coffee and call my own, but this was my favorite. The following is a transcript of the text conversation between my husband and myself that followed. Only the grammar has been changed—and it was his idea that I share this with y’all.

Me: Okay day is now officially fubar. I just broke my favorite coffee cup.
David: You should go lie down. Then later we will have a funeral for favorite cup.
Me: It’s already in the garbage. Please don’t mock me. I cried!
David: Maybe we’ll find a sister cup at favorite cup dollar store. Which one did you break?
Me: The black one with white polka dots. Dollar Store? Duh. No! Sears, maybe. Or Mary Maxim’s. It has to be a bone china cup.
David: NOT THE BLACK ONE!!!! (yes, friends, he typed that in caps with 4 exclamation marks). Ooooohhhhh. Is the ugly other one ok? You could look on Amazon, they have everything.
Me: You’re still mocking me.
David: Xoxoxo!!!!!!
Me: Kisses and hugs aren’t going to get you out of the big dung hole you’ve dug yourself.
David: Ahhh, but I love you and I gave you flowers. I know we will find a new cup together and then it will be special.

He went back to work and I went back to my computer. You know how they say that women have to have the last word? It’s true. Here’s the text I sent him about a half hour later.

Me: You were right! They have lots of fine bone china mugs on Amazon. Thank you for buying me the pretty white one with whimsical colorful horses on it. 1 mug, 44 dollars. Would have bought the set of two for 15 dollars....but you mocked me.

And while I may have the last word, my beloved often proves that he is a very smart man:

David: I hope the coffee you drink from it is most excellent.

But then, he does sometimes have a habit of snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory:

David: See how much help I can be? Aren’t you glad? (I wasn’t sure if he meant glad it all came out well, or glad he’d mocked me. Likely the latter.)
Me: Look down at your feet. See the thin ice you’re standing on? It may be in stealth mode, but it is there.
David: I won’t even touch the new very expensive MUG. I don’t want to be held accountable for it being broken. (Meaning: he won’t get me my coffee in the evening. An empty promise because of course he will).
Me: Don’t worry. You can always buy me another...and another...and...well, you get the idea.
David: Did you name her yet?
Me: And yet, you mock me still. I am beginning to think that HE might get lonely. Perhaps I should get another right now.
David: Xxoo

Of course, I didn’t order an additional new one. Or perhaps I should amend that to say, I didn’t order an additional new one—yet. And lest you think this was a serious discourse, we each knew the other was laughing throughout—though I really did order that 44 dollar mug.



  1. Morgan, after meeting you and David in May, I can certainly hear this conversation taking place in my head. Love you both. Sorry about your mug!!


    1. LOL, thanks, Lisa. I really was heartbroken. I'm not one for fancy things. I have two good pieces of jewlery (aside from my rings). I tend to form attachments to simpler things, like my mug. You will read next week how this quaint little personality tic of mine is often the butt of humor from other members of the family. Yes, the coffee mug saga continues. But on a positive note, my new one arrived today.