The plan to sleep in as late as I could was known by my husband, so maybe I should have been a bit more curious about his 6:15 a.m. wake-up call, beseeching me to run downstairs and turn off the pot of beans he left on the stove. In an almost surreal state, I moseyed downstairs and saw a pot on the stove that looked fine. I turned off the burner, peeked under the lid at the plump and (nauseating) lima beans as Kevin ran in through the kitchen door, dripping sweat, hyperventilating, wide-and wild-eyed and totally freaked out.
A little back story seems to be in order…
Our plan to eat everything in the refrigerator, freezer and pantry before going to the grocery store had led Kevin to an early morning discovery of a puddle of goo, next to a bag of lima beans in the bottom of the freezer. After cleaning the goo, he decided to cook the lima beans and take them to work for lunch. With the beans cooking, he started to unload the dishwasher. With the door to the dishwasher still open, he threw away the lima bean bag and realized the garbage can was full. He deserted the dishwasher and took the bag of garbage out to the shed. Once back by the shed, he found a plant that needed to be staked up, so he tended to that, before heading over to our tiny pool and doing a little maintenance on it. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat by this time and decided to take an early morning bike ride to cool off. He rode down to the beach, where he moved a picnic table to a more favorable location, thinking that he’d come home and wake me gently with the romantic notion to have coffee on the beach at sunrise together. He then continued his bike ride down the pier. He was almost all the way to the end of it when he remembered the beans on the stove. In a dead panic, he turned his bike around and made like Lance Armstrong toward home, simultaneously calling me on his cell. Visions of the house in flames and a wife dead of smoke inhalation flew through his mind, so the sight of me standing sleepy-eyed and morning-rumpled in a perfectly safe and calm kitchen nearly brought the man to his knees. I was greeted with one of the sweatiest and most grateful hugs I have ever received.
When he told me about his plans for us to have coffee on the beach at the table he’d moved, I canned my immediate plans to go back to bed. I mean, how could I resist that? His angst and self-flagellation were enough punishment for him, so I bit my bitchy tongue, filed the event away, never to be brought up again.
That is, of course, unless I need to. ;o)