Where’s Me Sandwiches, Donnie?

My routine is so, well, routine. I get up, make coffee, watch the news, pet the cat and go to work. Later I come home, make dinner and then my husband’s lunch for the next day. It is so routine I could do it with my eyes closed. Apparently, I did.

Last week I was at the end of an extremely long work-week. My days started at 6am and went well past midnight for 10 days straight. Needless to say, I was running on fumes. My routine started as usual. I prepared the drinks and tidbits (cookies, grapes and radishes) for hubby’s lunch early as I wanted to get a couple more hours of work completed before I called it a night.

Work just clicked. Though I was tired, the projects were getting checked off quickly. I couldn’t stop. If I finish just one more I can sleep in and actually have my Saturday free. I worked furiously, another project done. I was tired, but elated. I looked at the clock – 2 am! Fatigue hit me. I decided from then on never to look at the clock when working – it does psychological damage to your productiveness. I readied the desk for the next day, turned off the computer and happily feel asleep, knowing I could sleep in.

The first rays of sunshine filtered through the window. I heard birds chirping and smiled. Letting the cat in on the bed, she and I nestled down and slept for another hour. I awoke at 9 am feeling rested and ready to tackle the day. After a shower, I sat with my coffee and watched the morning news. I lazily strolled to the refrigerator to gather my breakfast ingredients of ham and eggs.

I stood and stared at the icebox, my eyes wide.

“Hello?” I could hear the laughter in his voice as he had expected my call. “Where’s me sandwiches, Donnie?”

I promised never to forget again. But sometimes you must be careful what you promise. Tonight, like clockwork, I prepared the drinks, and tidbits. I stood at the refrigerator, looking in all the drawers. ‘How odd.’ I checked and rechecked. I even looked in the cupboard next to the bread and in the freezer.

“Honey, Did you eat the last of the grapes?”

“Nope” my husband said as he prepared for bed.

‘I must have been really tired last night and threw the grapes in the trash.’

It wasn’t the silliness of throwing away perfectly good fruit that annoyed me. I was looking forward to a nice breakfast of strawberries. Unfortunately, with the grapes missing-in-action, the strawberries will be substituting and I will be eating yogurt.