Wednesday, August 04, 2010
I'm about to go all Rascal Flatts up in here.
This move feels really big, and really scary, and really important for me, even though I'm only moving 7/10ths of a mile away from where I've enjoyed married life to Mr. Man AKA Huzzie Bestie.
Maybe it's because the house I'm moving into isn't exactly a palace. (More like a Cracker Jack prize in ghetto Cracker Jacks.) Maybe it's because I'm forty-six, and I still don't have whatever that thing is people have who can stay married longer than it takes the paint to dry with a new name on the mailbox.
Or maybe it's because I don't have the right coffee pot.
I choose C.
My coffee pot was created for more than one person. No matter how hard I try to make just enough coffee for one chick, it always comes out as 'married people coffee'. I have a feeling the first morning I wake up to make coffee and find that I have enough for me plus one husband (insert name here), I'm gonna feel sad. And overly-caffeinated. And then sad again, but really, really energetic.
Sure, I could go buy one of those Here is Your One Cup of Coffee You Single Loser Who Has Failed Yet Again at Sustaining a Long Term Relationship coffee makers. But what will I do when I get lucky at Wal-Mart and the Frozen Pea Stocker Guy wants to come home with me? What? Am I gonna say, "Sorry Hot Frozen Pea Stocker Dude, but I'm a one cup house and you're outta luck"?
Of course not. No one talks to Frozen Pea Guy like that. He has a mustache.
I'm distressed. Maybe I should just get married again so that I have someone with whom to share a full pot of coffee. Hell, I once married a guy just so I didn't waste the six inches of a foot-long sub I never eat.
Labels: Divorced Sher