If you have read my previous entries you will know I am addicted to coffee like every other tired mother. And like any addicted person I like to have my coffee a certain way and any deviation from this is not going to give me that “complete” feeling. Luckily. I like my coffee black. No cream and, please, NO SUGAR. Yuck!
On our trip to Beaune yesterday (check out the link to my travel blog if you want to see the pics http://thefrenchdreamtravelblog.blogspot.com/ ) my husband stopped three times to get coffee and out of the three times he brought me one cup of black coffee! Only once did he get it right! The first cup was the tiny strong, strong “coffee” you find here in France. I have actually gotten to like it especially after a good meal and especially with the dessert! But, the American huge coffee is still the best for long car trips. You can nurse your cup of joe for several miles (kilometers) getting a continuous fix of caffeine. So, to begin with, I was not thrilled by the fact that I only had this teeny tiny cup of coffee to accompany me on the four hour car ride. And then to top it off at the next stop my husband gives me a cup of walnut flavored coffee. It was half sugar. I swear! I was not a happy camper! Finally, after I had explained to the man I have been married for long enough that he should know how I take my coffee. Simple coffee. Black. You can not get it wrong. What does this man do! On the ride back home I am tired and it is very dark and foggy out which does not help my being tired. He hands me a cup of coffee which I take with eagar hands. Guess what is in the coffee? You got it! Sugar. I am beside myself. His excuse. He pushed the button on the machine to fast! Now I am wondering if he is trying to tell me something or has some deep vengeful feelings for some silly fight from I don’t know when that he is secretly getting me back for or has the love just dulled that much? In the beginning he would have taken the time to get the coffee right even if I was impossible and wanted everything in it you can think of and at the just the right temperature. He would have brought me three coffees if he had to…just to make sure he got it right. Or at least if he pushed the wrong button he would have drank that one himself and bought me a new simple black coffee. After our time together living in two countries and carrying three of this man’s children. You think he could get a simple black coffee for me. O.K. Now I feel better!