Life is often not as expected. Some might say that it would be very boring if it was, however, in my life there are some things that are expected to follow some kind of logic, not to mention the immutable laws of physics and the universe in general.
Mrs Bryntin does not agree.
And, approximately 30 ft and two separate rooms away,
Volume of voices: Loud. By necessity due to distance.
Tone of voices: Increasingly exasperated due to expectations.
Scene begins. Me: Working.
Well, when I say working, I don’t actually have a job.
But I am not simply sat at a computer clicking at multiple tabs on an internet browser or typing stupid things into a word processor all day for no reason.
Although not, on casual inspection, looking very much different to that.
I do important stuff. To me anyway.
It’s just not ‘work work’, it’s more, well, ‘working’.
Mrs Bryntin (shouts from Kitchen): Do you want a cup of tea?
Me (shouts from Office): Yes please…
Pause, distant sound of something being beaten in a bowl.
There is nothing in this scene so far that suggests anything other than the comfortable and simple domestic daily humdrum of a happily married couple, but…
Mrs Bryntin (still shouting from Kitchen): Can you come and make it? I’m busy with cooking dinner…
A pause. Mainly for my brain to try to catch up and work out what happened there.
Me (still shouting from Office): So, if I want a cup of tea, come and make it myself?
Mrs Bryntin (still in Kitchen): Umm.. Yes… Can’t you even do that?
That is what my brain told me was happening but it was having trouble with some logic switches and the shape of the flow chart symbols to work out how it got there.
Me (still in Office, tone may have slight inference of some exasperation and sarcasm): Yes. Of course I can. In fact, I may have, in about ten minutes time, thought ‘Hmm.. I fancy a cup of tea, I’ll go and make one.’
But you shouted first.
Mrs Bryntin (still in Kitchen): Don’t try to be clever, I’m too busy I said.
Me (still in Office): But I wasn’t even thinking I wanted one until you shouted.
This is true. I was working and stopped to answer the question ‘Do you want a cup of tea’?, which, having thought about it, would save me from stopping working and would result in a cup of tea being brought to my desk, perhaps with a custard cream to accompany it. So I said ‘Yes.’
Mrs Bryntin (still in Kitchen): Well now you are.
Me (still in Office): But you offered me a cup of tea… I assumed that meant you were offering to make one for me.
This is my final attempt at getting the procedure adjusted towards my favoured, not to mention, originally expected outcome of having a cup of tea made for me by the person who, I thought, had offered to make me a cup of tea. Preferably with that custard cream.
Mrs Bryntin (still in Kitchen): Look I’m busy. If you want a cup of tea, come and make one. And don’t start trying all that funny nonsense you write on your blog on me… all twisted and exaggerated and stuff…
Me (still in Office): Eh?
I don’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t exaggerate and very rarely twist. It’s painful for a start.
Mrs Bryntin (still in Kitchen): You’ll be turning this into one of your blogs and making me look silly.
Me (walking out of Office towards Kitchen): Nah. Wouldn’t do that.
I’ll come and make myself that tea you offered to make me.
Mrs Bryntin (in Kitchen and now seen to be wielding a whisking implement and using it as a threatening pointing device, an effect enhanced slighty by the white-ish gooey mixture dripping off it and on to the floor which I imagine might have been the sticky remains of her last victim.): Not. Another. Blog post. Understand?
Me (now also in Kitchen): Of course. (Points at whisk) He looks beaten too.
Mrs Bryntin (‘Harrumphs’, or something similar): You’ll need to fill the kettle.
So, when she said ‘Make it yourself, she meant ‘Make it yourself, from start to finish. I’d probably have to open the biscuit tin myself too.
Me (over sound of running water filling kettle): So, basically, I do everything involved in making a cup of tea except initiating the actual thought about whether to have a cup of tea.
Mrs Bryntin (scowling): And clean that up… (points at small drops of gooey white mixture on kitchen floor)
Me (possibly with eyebrows raised so far they’ve merged into my hair. That’s a long way up these days.) You did that!
Mrs Bryntin: Only because you were in here annoying me.
I think my face might have been making the confused expression at this stage as my brain, in as much as what was left of it, felt like it might have resembled a tangled knot due to following all the permutations of cause and effect and finally coming up with the only response that all married men use when they can’t for the life of them come up with anything that makes any sense in the situation because no answer could be met with any sense that he’d understand either.
Me: Yes dear..
Mrs Bryntin: Don’t you ‘yes dear’ me you sarcastic bastard…
Me: Quietly wipes floor with kitchen towel while kettle boils, makes tea in silence, carries steaming cup back to Office… Mumbles to self: … Better note this down… probably wouldn’t dare write it though… although you never know… might feel brave one day.