Because The Commitments have taken over upstairs, and let me just say for the record right now that I love all three of them with every fiber of my being, I slept in the living room last night and was awoken at 6am by aurora borealis streaming through the curtain-less windows. I got up and made some coffee, joined hours later by the next one up, my father. It is over early morning cups of coffee in the kitchen that one truly learns just who their parents are. This morning, my dad revealed one of his secrets to a happy life:
The Weekend Mug.
Apparently, my father delights in having one single coffee mug designated solely for weekend use, a reminder, he claims, that he doesn’t have to work that day. Referring to it as a “celebratory gesture,” he refuses to use this mug on weekdays and takes great pleasure in pulling it out of the cupboard on weekends.
Today counts. He’s taking the lads to Alcatraz and Chinatown. He used his weekend mug.
I asked if he had a weekDAY mug, or better, one for Mondays, Tuesdays, etc.
No. Apparently, that would be ridiculous.
I think we now know what Pa is getting for Christmas…