Yesterday, I had my yearly physical, and I was rushing to get ready because I'd been puttering around all morning and time had gotten away from me. I hopped out of the shower and opened my top drawer (the one filled with all of my--ahem!--undergarments, unmentionables, what have you), and in my haste to unfasten the belt of my bathrobe, somehow bumped into and knocked over the full cup of coffee that was sitting on my dresser (in a trademark move that my husband and sons will recognize).
This couldn't have happened before I opened that drawer; no, it happened when that thing was wide open, and the coffee spilled right into the drawer and splattered on everything in sight. I frantically grabbed the least caffeinated underthings I could find and put them aside to wear, and then I threw everything else on the floor so that I could mop up the little puddles that had formed inside the drawer with the only thing I had handy at the time, the nightgown I'd left on the floor when I went to shower. (Thankfully, the little sweet-smelling sachet I'd brought home from my trip to Nice with my husband last December had been spared; it appeared to be the only thing in that drawer that didn't get hit! Everything else was going to have to be washed.) I didn't have time to do a thorough clean-up, so I tried to blot up the coffee that had spilled on the rug in front of my dresser with my bathrobe. Afterwards, I threw my soggy nightgown and my stained robe in the hamper and just left the pile of unmentionables on the ground to be dealt with later, with the rug stain setting nicely underneath them, and finished getting dressed so that I wouldn't be late for my appointment.
Getting dressed for a doctor's appointment always requires a good bit of thought, too, because in anticipation of the weigh-in, I always want to make sure I'm wearing the lightest clothing possible. (Jeans weigh about ten pounds; did you know that?) So I put on a paper-thin, gauzy summer skirt, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and some thong sandals that could be easily slipped off before I hopped barefoot on the scale. I was not even going to have socks on my feet for that weigh-in. (Socks weigh at least three or four pounds; did you know that?) I was dressed for a stroll along the boardwalk at the beach, even though it was rainy and a bit chilly outside. I didn't care. I had a slight hint of "eau du cafe" perfume about me, so at least I smelled delicious.
Anyhoo, in spite of wearing the most lightweight articles of clothing I could find, I didn't like the higher-than-optimum number that evil scale came up with. It was probably wrong, I decided. But boy, at that point I sure wished I hadn't skipped both breakfast and lunch before my 1:00 appointment--all because of the madcap notion that if my stomach was empty, I would weigh considerably less than if it was full! (Given what went down, it was the coffee I should have skipped.)
When I returned home, I stopped the car at the end of the driveway to gather the mail, and I was excited to see a card from son #3, who had informed me on Mother's Day that he had ordered me something and it would be coming soon. With the car still running, I tore open the card. To my delight, I found that he had enrolled me in a "coffee of the month" club. I will be receiving shipments of gourmet coffee--woo hoo! I had to laugh when I saw the note he'd added at the end: "Mom, that's the gift that keeps on giving, the whole year." (If you've never seen the movie "Christmas Vacation," you won't get that reference--and it's such a classic that you need to rent it, STAT!)
Given what had happened to my pedestrian cup of Maxwell House Lite just two hours earlier, I couldn't help feeling surprised that my son would trust me with such a gift. I am a lover of coffee...but also a spiller of coffee. I always seem to have a cup going, but half the time I forget where I've put it until I've knocked it over. It doesn't help that I like to keep a spoon in my cup, because that just makes the whole operation even more precarious.
But I'm honored, son, that--despite my pitiful track record--you think I am worthy of your gift of fancy, high-class coffee. And I'll try to repay this trust you have in me by pledging to do my utmost not to spill a drop of the precious stuff from now on.
(By the way: yes, I really did photograph the crime scene when I came back from the doctor, and I know that seems kind of strange...but I just knew I had a blog post forming once I got that "coffee of the month" club card!)