Himself has two distinct personalities. There is Pre-Tea Me, as he calls himself, and Himself.
We all know and love Himself. He’s calm, collected, sensible, handy, adaptable, a pillar of strength (“strong like bull”), a veritable Rock of Gibraltar and the love of my life.
Pre-Tea He is a different story. Pre-Tea He is a barely sentient being whose sole objective is making and drinking one cup of tea. Kinda zombie-like, now that I think about it. Only instead of brains, he needs tea. Pre-Tea He doesn’t speak … he grunts. All other lifeforms in the house go to great lengths to avoid Pre-Tea He …. why do you think I go to work so early?
After tea has been made and consumed, Himself emerges and it is safe to move about the cabin.
But there was this morning.
We’re lying in bed. I’ve hit the snooze button. I’m trying to convince myself to get out of bed, and Pre-Tea He (who is not teaching this week) is starting to rouse, because he hears a suspicious sound.
“What? @$#%! It’s the $#^$@#$%% garbage truck!”
More colorful language ensues in a steady stream as Pre-Tea He leaps out of bed and starts throwing clothes on.
The race is on, and the garbage men are way ahead. There is poop to be scooped, and trash and recycling to be gathered and all assembled on the curb before they finish the far side of the street and turn around for us.
And have I mentioned he hasn’t had his tea yet?
“Where’s the poop scoop? I CAN’T FIND THE #%^$!$@% POOP SCOOP!”
That’s my fault, because I’m always leaving it someplace stupid, like on the stairs, in the bathroom, or on the bed. I’m not quick enough so he gives up and heads downstairs to gather the trash.
“@#$%#%@$%^#%$ $#$$^@! #$%$^%$#!!!!!!!”
Pre-Tea He has walked into chaos downstairs. The Wonder Dog has peed the floor (first time EVER, btw) AND vomited.
By this time, Pre-Tea He is almost apoplectic. He’s worked himself into quite a lather of indignation and self-pity, and he shared with me later a little of the internal monologue that was playing in his head (insert one really bad word in between each word below for full effect):
“This is unreal.Here I am cleaning up pee and barf scooping poop and I HAVEN’T EVEN HAD MY TEA YET! This is wrong. I can’t be expected to deal with this before I’ve had my tea. Now my entire day is ruined, and I’m already late and WHEN AM I GOING TO GET MY TEA?”
“I know why the Pope and the Dalai Lama are so holy. They get to have their tea in peace before they have to deal with pee and poop and barf. TEA!”
At some point I snuck out.
Shortly thereafter, but obviously POST-tea, Himself sends me a text:
“Pre-tea Me bellows “WHERE’S THE REFRIGERATOR. UHH.”
Turns out the poop scoop was right next the litter box, where it was supposed to be.