you know, i totally adore my hubby ... for lots of reasons. but i think this morning i determined the number one. no not that; this is sposed to be romantic, not trashy. this is more singles and less melrose place.

anyhow, i get up this morning and run get a latte (venti no-foam whole milk (yeah, that's right) latte with two-and-one-half packets of naked sugar (sugar-in-the-raw)). aaaaaah bliss. hop back in the car, set the coffee on the ENORMOUS dashboard of the car (we have a new beetle. you could have your own midget strippers up there if you knew where to hire some.), and then three seconds later, we are all covered in coffee. "we" being me, my purse, the passenger door, the passenger seat, the dashboard, the glove compartment ... you get my drift. now, how in the hell did i manage this impressive display of motor ability, you ask?? i mean, you're probably sayin, "JESUSHCHRISTWOMAN, normal people set cups of coffee on their dashboards every effin day of their lives without incident and certainly without tragedy! whatthehelliswrongwithyou??" and i would say, "yeah, i know. wait, did you say 'normal people?'" FFFFFFRFFFFGGTIKJLOW)O#&*)$#)(*@)*(U!@&*

here's how it happened. i did set the cup on the enormous dashboard. i mean only me and people with iq's around 17 could miss it it's so friggin huge, but i set it just so that it started to slide towards me a tiny bit, and when i looked down to get my seatbelt situated ... well ... gravity kicked in. my years and years of studying "Kah-Rah-Tay" and developing my sense of oonagi alerted me to the impending danger, and my cat-like (quick like a cat, quick like cat) reflexes allowed me to grab the cup out of midair, the inertia of the coffee contained inside causing it to leap out of the tiny drinking hole with much more force that the coffee could have exerted on its own.

i mentioned we have a new beetle, right?

now, yes, we are married, and yes, this is a community property state, and i'm sure he would say that it's "our" car ... but ... on some very fundamental level, this is his car. this is his baby, his pride and joy, his prrrrrrecious.

so i rush home, run inside to get cleaning supplies (secretly hoping he's still asleep and i'll get it all cleaned up and he'll never have to know) and i run smack into him in the kitchen. standing in front of the cabinet containing the precious chemical agents. so in a tiny little voice i squeek, "ummmm, i need to get some car cleaning stuff out of there ..." and he just looks at me with a complete lack of anger or frustration or even concern for the car. in fact, he looks concerned for ME and says, "did you spill your coffee, babe?" with this "you poor thing" tone in his voice cause a) he was afraid i might have burned myself, and b) he totally understands what a burden it is for me to live every day of my life trapped in a comedy of errors. or an episode of keystone cops. or i love lucy without all the loud whiny crying. well, with at least a reduced amount of. and then he just reaches over and starts toweling the coffee off my sleeve. *sigh* what a guy ...

p.s. how many entries have i actually written about spilling coffee on myself? i know of one for sure, and a couple that i've written but not posted. i wonder if i'd have better luck with tea?