It started out very innocently with a great idea, “Let’s add a bedroom so Matt can come live with us.” said Mark. “Sure,” I said, “That’s a great idea!” As you already know Mark and I have the perfect relationship. We never fight or argue about anything, especially not our five children, two of which have special needs. We wouldn’t even think of disagreeing when it comes to our rental business and most certainly wouldn’t have a heated discussion about money in these hard financial times. Nope, not us! Then came the coffee pot...yes, I said the coffee pot! It’s like this. If you know me, you know I’m NOT a morning person. In fact I’m not sure I’m even an afternoon person, but I get by. While Mark bounces out of bed in the morning like Tigger, all bouncy flouncy “Tiggers are wonderful things” and “let’s do the morning dance,” I’m a bit more...shall we say Oscar the Grouch. Yep, Grouch or Grinch, it’s all the same to me. Just leave me alone and don’t talk to me before I have a cup of hot Java! Really, I’ll be fine. Just a little quiet and a hot cup of coffee and I’ll come over to the world of the living; 2 cups and I may even be nice.

That brings me to the trouble that could ultimately lead to the wars of the roses! When the contractor (who hasn’t showed up or called in a week) cut through the exterior wall to create our new hallway, he apparently was unaware that those copper wires he was cutting were electrical wires, providing our kitchen with the energy it so desperately devours on a daily basis. As he cut, lights flickered, flashed, and then, yes, you guessed it, boom! After the dust settled, smoke was pouring from the bowels of my beloved coffee pot. She was dead on arrival, her insides fried like she had experienced the electric chair. No chance of survival. I was immediately devastated at the loss. I knew, at that very moment, it would be a long time to my quiet cup of coffee before tending to the millions of things it takes to run a business and care for five children. What I didn’t know was that replacing that pot would prove to be the one issue that could lead to true marital discourse.

“Let’s go buy a new coffee pot” said Mark. So off we went to that wonderful place that sells all the finest of things for your home. Yup, TARGET! I liked this one, he liked that one...on and on it went. The silver one, the black one, the one that grinds beans...on and on it went. I am NOT a shopper. I get in and get out, business done in minutes. Mark likes to make his choices slowly and very carefully, exploring each items quality and attributes. I had my coffee pot in the cart and was heading out to the checkout line when I heard it! Six words which would change the course of our relationship. “I think I want this one.” he said while holding the very smallest coffee pot ever made. Then came the biggest lie ever. “We will just get this one and use it until we find the right one, then we can use it in the motor home.” stated Mark. Yes, it makes 4 cups at a time, just enough for one true cup of coffee. Now my heart is pounding and my hopes and dreams are quickly being smashed. You know that moment, when you know your spouse, and you know their mind is made up and you have no say in the matter anymore. It was then that it began. You see, we bought that tiny little coffee pot with the rationalization that it cost nine dollars and doesn’t take up much space in our little kitchen, and home we went.

In his world that little coffee pot is perfect and I understand how he feels. Mr. Happy New Day is dancing his little happy morning dance at 6.00 a.m. and making his coffee. When I get up at 8.00 a.m. do you think there’s any left? I know I’m spoiled, but in those fifteen minutes it takes me to make a new pot (more like a spot) of coffee I am forced to face the ultimate challenge. Five happy children, all giggly, happy and chirping like little blue birds on a spring morning. They are all so happy to see me, hugging and kissing me, asking me questions like “Can I have ten dollars?” In that moment I can hardly think and I’m mostly wondering who these brats are, where did they come from and what gives them the right to be so damned happy to see me? I pretend to know them, avoid all monetary requests and pretend I am ready to start my day. Then that little coffee pot finally pays off, and I start my day. Well, I wish it was truly that way, but it’s not. I know the false pretenses used to get me to agree to such a small coffee machine will soon be forgotten by Mr. Happy New Day and I will be stuck with it forever. I also know he will never see it from my perspective as long as he gets up first and gets his coffee first. Today, for example, I woke up and got one quarter of a cup of coffee. So, I brewed a new pot. While I was waiting for it to finish brewing I started this little note. Finally, the little pot finished brewing, at which point Mr. Happy Pants walked in and poured himself another cup of hot coffee. You guessed it! After an hour brewing 2 pots and writing this note, I still have not had a cup of coffee.

I’ll be asking Santa for a very large coffee pot this year. If not I may need a lawyer.

Need I say more?