While attempting to stuff fibrefill into he’s new custom home built loudspeakers the morning after a night out with work colleagues the Mauritian declared: “Manth, I am getting to old to do these things anymore!” When asked why he would say that when by his own admission he only had two glasses of wine and a beer he put his tools on the floor and sat on the coffee table and said: “Exactly, and I feel like sh..!” He then went on to explain that the simple task of making tea for the Butterfly and coffee for her parents turned into a series of comical errors, which I find far too comical not to share.
For the first time in many weeks I have not been plagued by 5am backache which forces me out of bed and denies me much desired sleep ins on the weekends, so I made the most of it and refused to emerge from under the winter stack of duvets. The Butterfly is up and demanding tea and the Mauritian can no longer deny his need for a strong cup of caffeine filled filter coffee so he staggers out of bed into the kitchen. I went back to sleep to be woken up by a gleeful Butterfly wanting to share her last Easter egg with her mum an hour later. What happened in the interim was this:
Staggering into the kitchen the Mauritian filled the kettle and searched feverishly for our regular mugs forgetting to check the dishwasher, which has become the permanent storage space for them. Five minutes later the “penny” dropped and he found them all clean and gleaming where he had put them the night before. While waiting for the kettle to boil he then realised we had run out of tea bags and would have to make the Butterfly’s tea with tea leaves in a pot, you wouldn’t think that would be too hard to do would you? It is, if you are the Mauritian apparently! Into the tea pot went the filter coffee, which I’m sure caused a little mild cursing and not feeling up to the task of correcting the mistake he put the tea leaves into the “French press.” With one “problem” solved he successfully found the sugar bowl, which was fortunately full, only to realise that he had mistakenly put sugar in my mug and not his. Again, unwilling to compromise the amount of coffee he’d get to drink from his cup he decided he’d just not stir my coffee and I won’t taste the sugar. Now that works to a certain point, until I get to the last sip which I, as always, glug down and got a mouthful of half dissolved sugar! Not the most pleasant of wakeup calls, three hours and two cups of sugarless coffee later I can still taste the sugar. It was at this point in the now ill fated coffee/tea making mission that the Mauritian realised he had not actually turned the kettle on. By now this little slip up would have elicited a few more choice phrases from him. Switching on the kettle he reaches out to his left to take the milk out of the fridge. Searching a little desperately for the handle and puzzled why he couldn’t find it he glanced to his left to discover that he had not moved far enough to his left and was trying to open the grocery cupboard. By now those choice phrases muttered under his breath would be in French and the air around him would be tinged a little blue! Pulling himself towards himself and giving himself a little shake to wake up the Mauritian manages to negotiate the actual pouring of the water and milk into their respective pots and mugs and then tops off his morning by attempting to put the kettle in the fridge!
Are you laughing? I am!
Perhaps the Mauritian is right, if this is the after affects of a tame night out, then perhaps he is getting to old for that shit!