Jan. 28: Worst. Wife. Ever.

Victor’s been working an early shift this week. Every morning that he’s out the door before I even get up, he gets the coffee maker all ready so when I come downstairs I only need to push START and guess what? Fresh coffee for Jen.

He’s a nice guy.

Yesterday morning I came downstairs and pushed START on the coffee maker and nothing happened. Now, if you read my post last night, you know that I was grouchy yesterday morning. So when I pushed START on the coffee maker and nothing happened, I opened the top of the coffee maker to see that Victor had NOT prepared my coffee for the day. And do you know what I did?

I cursed. I actually cursed. Worse, I cursed Victor. I cursed him for not preparing my coffee for the day.

I am not a nice guy.

I went ahead and made my own coffee, grumbling all the way, and then completely forgot about how angry I was at him. Completely forgot, that is, until this morning when I went to get coffee and thought I should check inside the coffee maker before I pushed START. And there I saw a clean, dry filter with just enough grounds for my 20-ounce mug (with room for French vanilla creamer, obvy). I pushed START and am now enjoying a cup of coffee that has NOT been sitting in the carafe for two hours.

And I’m feeling huge guilt for cursing Victor yesterday. It was uncalled for. It was mean. I’d like to think he brought it upon himself for getting me used to only having to push START every morning, but that wouldn’t be very appreciative of me, would it? And I do appreciate his efforts, even if he occasionally fails.

I should probably count on my coffee being at least half Vic-spit from now until I remember to apologize to his face.