I got up, filled the single-serve coffeemaker with water, put in a coffee pod, and pressed the brew button. Then I washed all the dishes in the sink that were leftover from the night before. As soon as I shut the water off, I heard a weird burbling sound. It was the coffeemaker, happily spewing coffee all over the counter and floor, because I’d forgotten to put a mug in it.
I walked into the still-dark bedroom to tell E that I’d screwed up making her coffee. I could see the black-and-white shape of the cat in his usual spot at the foot of the bed. I saw a dark swath on the bed, where E usually leaves her sweatpants when she’s gotten dressed. And I saw that the pillows were both white and empty. I told the cat, “Oh, I didn’t realize E had already gotten up.”
E then piped up from the dark swath, “No, I’m right here.” She’d turned around to cuddle the cat, which is why the pillow was empty.
It’s never a good sign to start the day so tired that you brew coffee all over the floor and can’t even recognize your own wife lying on your bed.