Thursday, September 21, 2006

Bring Me Champagne, or Don't

Last night, I tackled the mail, trying to sort it all - the most annoying domestic task in the free world.

After discarding folded up directions, receipts used as wrappers for used gum, and Bed, Bath, and BEYOND coupons the size of my thighs, I sat down on the couch and watched Adonis wash the dishes with a towel thrown over his shoulder.

I commented, "You're losing weight again. That or your new haircut makes your head look smaller."

He agreed with a nod, "Yes, that's a definite possibility."

Reminiscing how he looked yesterday, "It was getting quite bushy."
Bushy, for Adonis, is 2.1 cm.

Then, suddenly, Adonis is coming toward me with a champagne flute, one that we used on our wedding day to toast our love and new life together. Ready to proclaim this person as the most romantic, thoughtful, and intuitive partner, I smile. What a find of a man I have, I think to myself, he washes the dishes, he does the laundry, and now he turns ordinary evenings into romantic moments.

But, then Adonis gradually walks past the couch to where I am waiting like a lioness, and pours the tap-water-filled-champagne flute into Buddy - his trusty green plant perched high on our wooden book shelf.

A small frown pulls my face down.

I watch Adonis go back to the sink and resume his dishwashing. He looks up and gives me a megawatt smile.

1 comment:

  1. michele12:30 PM

    this made me laugh so hard i almost pissed myself.


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