national coffee day

She never likes how I curl up next to her and sit my huge New York Yankees World Series mug on her lap. But I do it anyway. She has a thing about getting too close. Andrea's reading Sylvia Plath on an old brown and white family couch we got from my father before he moved into his retirement home up north. By the beach. Bigger land for the kids. Just what he wanted. Before I could move my arm towards the radio dial, Andrea yells out.

"NO!!"
"No, What?" I questioned.
"No. No Radio. You know how I hate it. No CBC. No Jazz. No nothing. Silence." Andrea stated strictly while rushing through the pages of the poetry book.

Andrea always likes silence while reading. Unlike me. I always like to be busy. I like the radio on while I'm reading. I like to do or pay attention to more than one thing at a time. Busy minds mean..Well, I don't know. But I'm sure it's good.

Just before Noon, and she is still in her nightgown. Cuddled up on the couch. Reading.


I jumped straight out of bed this morning and ran into the shower. Got ready. No place to go. But it's Saturday. You never know what will happen. Walk though the town? Coffee on a patio? Lunch in the park? Never know.

"Not doing anything today?" I ask while I get up from the couch and pick up the garbage from last nights take-out.
"Not sure. What you have planned?" She says quietly while still engrossed in her book.

I look outside to check the weather. Noticing the dark clouds, I quickly come up with an idea. "How about a matinee? Dinner after? Drinks later?"
She slightly takes her glaze off of her reading material and looks at me. "Sounds good."

I lift up her legs to grab the menu we received last night to put it up on the fridge. "Great". Carefully resting her feet back on the table. "I'll check the movies".

"Moneyball". She mumbles quietly. "Moneyball is out. Check what time that is on." she states while chuckling from me touching her feet.

"Sure thing".