You've Been Served

I'm sorry it has come to this; notice the look of confusion on his face?  I understand that as we age we like to surround ourselves with things, traditions, and memories of our "younger years".   Really--I do and I enjoyed being able to give him joy from something so simple.  But I've started something that I am beginning to regret.

It started out so simple--I had always used placemats on the kitchen table, then after visiting his mother, I pulled out a cloth tablecloth.  I have to admit it felt good snapping the cloth into place and adjusting it so that the crease was right down the middle.  But the look---the look on his face when he saw that I had a "cloth" tablecloth--it was priceless.

"You have a cloth tablecloth---I love cloth tablecloths on the table." gushed--yes gushed my husband.

This lasted for awhile and then I began to notice that I was changing the tablecloths an awful lot.  It seemed like I was always washing one--not to mention at times ironing them!  So I watched.......

The men in my family were not bringing the bowls of food to the plate.  They would pile vegetables so high on a spoon (waiting for Ripleys to contact me--I know we have set a record) and with shaking hands maneuver it back to their plates. Dropping bits and pieces along the way--like a fairytale--leaving a trail back to the bowl of vegetables.

Then odd things were beginning to occur.    I lifted my son's plate when he was finished and I thought a murder had taken place (we had spaghetti) it was gruesome.

"What on earth is going on?  You are twenty-five years old!  How does this happen?"  He looked incredulous, couldn't understand what on earth I was talking about.

We had a lovely dinner the night before and my last touch was to put on a fresh, clean, tablecloth after the kitchen was cleaned.   The next morning I removed my husband's bowl--there the size of a half-dollar was strawberry juice---STRAWBERRY JUICE--on the white table cloth.  Now this was going to require some strategic thinking on my part.  I calmly approached him--smiling--but not too much, it was early.

"When you put the strawberries on your cereal did you bring the bowl over to the counter or did you put the container of strawberries on the table?"

"I put the container on the table--why?" Eyes instantly narrowing--so my window of opportunity was closing--and fast.

"Did you notice the strawberry stain on the table cloth?"

"What stain?"

I gave notice to both men in my household; they were on tablecloth probation.  If things didn't improve--vinyl was my next step.  Until then I've made a new friend to share my burden with: