7341/19861
Life had the timing of a sitcom today. Not a good sitcom, because none of this would be vaguely amusing if it was made up, but as it was happening in reality and to me, there was a certain amount of amusing comic timing to it.
I’d made my morning cappuccino and left it on the island in our kitchen. We store the cups in a cupboard in that island - the one facing the coffee machine and kettle. We’ve thought it through beautifully. Catie was at the fridge getting some butter and the fridge is next to the coffee machine and so she was blocking my access to my cup. So I reached across the island to get it. But at the same time Catie, who was making a sandwich for the kids, brushed the butter knife against the cup. I grasped the cup and felt the butter and instinctively recoiled, pushing the cup over and sending coffee flying all over the counter and the floor.
It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Which is to say it was entirely my fault.
A full cup of milky coffee spilt on the floor because of an accident involving butter is faintly amusing, though not the person clearing it up.
However the coffee had a punchline planned and it was all in the timing.
I cleaned up the mess with paper towels - it took more than one sheet, Juan Sheet (though to be fair I wasn’t using his brand of kitchen towel, so maybe it would have - whatever happened to Juan Sheet - was he a victim of the culture wars or did the advertisers realise that talking about "one shit" didn’t make people want to buy kitchen roll?). I had to make another coffee. It was quite the palaver.
About an hour later I decided to have another coffee and went to the mug cupboard. When I opened it, fate and gravity were ready for me. Some of the coffee had pooled on the top of the door and so when I opened it, another sizeable slosh of coffee fell down on to the floor I’d cleaned and over some of the cups in the cupboard and on to my feet. Well played comedy gods. I didn’t expect that.
I tidied up the spilt coffee, determined that the coffee sprites would not trick me again. I decided to open the other cupboard door (the cup cupboard is a two door affair) without even considering that it might all happen again (the coffee had spilled over the other door), but of course, there was a topper to the punchline. The whole thing happened again. I was back on my hands and knees. All I wanted was a coffee, guys. Why do the Gods torment me so?
It’s not even usable in a sitcom. It’s barely adequate as a blog.
