Everybody likes my lovely wife, Sugar. Or should. I myself am quite fond of her. She is kind, generous, smart, talented, and, like the beauty queen she was, easy to look at. So far so good.
We have some guests at our bed & breakfast. Sugar helps in her own way. She makes wonderful breakfasts. Now let’s talk about me for a minute. I am the person who makes the coffee and, get this, pours it.
Miss Sugar tries to assist me in the many important tasks required of “the coffee guy.” Today she handed me a crystal thing from which to pour cream. When she entrusted me with it, she sternly warned me, “Don’t break this. I have had it for 30 years.”
I know what you are thinking. You are expecting me to say that I broke it. I most certainly did not break it.
All I did was use it to feed the dogs. It serves well, with the pouring part, to measure and pour dog food. (That’s right. I do more than serve coffee. I also feed the dogs.}
So, Miss Sugar noticed the multiple uses to which I employed her precious crystal pourer thing and, nice as she might seem to the rest of the world, she put this object ahead of my personal emotional feelings. She criticized my judgement. She accused me of endangering that object.
I thought that she loved our dogs. And me.
I will pray for her immortal soul.
I guess that goes to show you — nobody’s perfect.