I admit I’m an unashamed coffeee lover. Most mornings eventhough I crave for a cuppa and manage to brew a fresh pot, I have no time to sit and enjoy one. Often times, monday morning coffee at my office-desk is the first whole cuppa since friday, that I enjoy without zapping and re-zapping ewww…..indeed!
Today, I was determined to have my cuppa at home and even got up earlier that usual. But as I took a sip my eyes fell on the wall clock and I realised with dismay that I only had few minutes to run to the bus-stop (my son needed my car and that meant a bus ride to the GO station for me, ummmmmmmm the sacrifices a parent makes..). Anyway, almost scalding my tongue I barely tasted few sips of the coffee and ran to the bus-stop.
I transitioned easily from the bus onto the GO-train-car with no coffee on my mind, seated myself in a window seat and closed my eyes, when suddenly coffee hit my senses full fledged. It was so compelling that my eyes automatically flew open and saw a beautiful, senior couple with their laptops, lunch bags, blackberries and yummy smelling coffee in their very large travel mugs sit opposite to each other (the man besides me and the wife opposite to him).They proceeded to take micro-sips at their coffee while co-ordinating each other schedules on their respective blackberries. My coffee-craving mind got to know when he is due for a root canal, when she is having a ‘girl’s night out’ at their home and which one he dreaded most!! They teased each other while sipping at their coffee (which kept teasing my olfactory senses) and I had a flashback to the 1980’s when my parents arranged my marriage.
A good friend from those days (whose parents were also looking for a suitable spouse for him) asked me if I had any expectation of an ‘arranged-spouse’ and if I could give him any advice. In my naivety I recall telling him, ‘Equality, my friend, equality: I guarantee a freshly brewed pot of coffee if my spouse comes home later than me just as I would expect when I come home late’. ‘What about cooking?’, my friend probed further. Without missing a beat I said, ‘Three days of cooking each and eating out the odd day’, I replied with a grin.
Fast forward twenty years, I still walk home to a freshly brewed coffee and I only cook three days in a week. Courtesy: Programmable coffee-maker, zapper and sans spouse.