I feel like a commercial for coffee creamer... the ones where the woman's husband greets her in the kitchen with an apron on and a steaming white mug of coffee. She sits at the bar counter in her perfect cream and tan kitchen and closes her eyes to smell and taste the first sip in a perfect storm of happiness.
My situation is almost exactly like that- except I made my coffee myself in a single cup French press almost 3 hours ago and just reheated it in the microwave because right after I made the coffee Pursy pooped her pants, my cell phone rang and I remembered a bill I needed to pay and get to the mailbox. Husband is not handing me my coffee, in apron or otherwise, because he has been at work for two hours and will be there most likely until 10PM. I don't own white mugs because they are boring, so my coffee resides in a much-used mug brought back from my favorite cafe in New Orleans. As calm as a tan and cream kitchen would be, I actually like my cinnamon colored kitchen walls but am distracted by the dog hair and Cheerio ashes all over the floor. And if I closed my eyes to take a sip of coffee, Pursy might be halfway to the steps and Elliott would be nose deep in the garbage. MY perfect storm of happiness is set to MJ's Thriller album on the record player, which allowed me to bust out some sweet dance moves to entertain Pursy while I made a week's worth of baby food.
If my morning looked any more like that commercial it would be creepy... I think we are using the EXACT same coffee creamer.