I was in therapy recently when I thought to mention a particular incident that had happened in my life the day before. What does it mean? What is wrong with me? Why is this an issue?
All of those questions and more went through my head as I casually mentioned to my ‘feelings doctor’ (that’s what Thing 2 calls her therapist, because duh the girls are in therapy because your parents splitting up is a big freaking deal) that I had experienced total paralysis over a Keurig.
Background — I’d wanted a Keurig forever, or least forever since I first heard of them. Leif didn’t want one, for whatever reason. Something about quantity and quality. Anyway, I wanted one for a very long time, but couldn’t convince my husband to spend the money on one. A year and a half ago, my mom got me one for Christmas!! I was uber excited, especially because I love love love a morning cup of tea, am usually too groggy to make one the traditional way, and Earl Gray k-cups are the bomb.
Fast-forward 18 months or so, and Leif has ended up using the Keurig far more often than myself. No, I don’t know why he changed his mind about it. If I knew why and how he changed his mind about things … well … things might be different. But I don’t and they’re not.
When I left, I told him he could keep the Keurig because he’d ended up using it more than me.
I have missed my magic pixies that make me tea in my mystical morning machine. A lot.
Which brings us to the morning last week when I was standing in my old kitchen, staring at my Keurig on the counter and wanting it but never daring to take it.
But I promised him he could have it.
But he didn’t want it to begin with.
But I told him he could have it.
What if I changed my mind.
Well you can’t go back on your word.
Anyway, I spent a good long time standing in my old kitchen wrestling with myself over whether or not to take my coffee machine that I had told my husband he could keep.
So I mentioned this whole thing to my therapist, and he asked why I didn’t just take it.
“I don’t want to make him mad!”
“Mad? How would he get mad?” (yes, therapists actually ask these kinds of things. The good ones know when to ask them.)
“He’d be upset.”
“If you took the coffee maker?”
“What else have you done recently that might upset him?”
“… I … uh … left him.”
“… So in the grand scheme of things, how does leaving your husband and taking the coffee machine compare? Because I’d sure as heck rather my wife take the coffee machine than leave me.”
Well when you put it that way … (There was actually a lot more back and forth over this issue — I’m paraphrasing so as not to bore you.)
So a few days later, I gathered my gumption, got over my fear of being viewed as the biatch that not only left him but took the Keurig too, and I asked him if I could have custody of it. And my All-Clad pots and pans. I wanted those too, and if I was asking for stuff, I might as well.
He said of course I could. Anything.
It was another few days before I got around to his house, and the pots and pans had been set out on the dining table. Next to them was the Keurig, all boxed up and ready to go.
Huh. I didn’t even remember that we’d kept the box. Weird.
I went to the kitchen to refill my water, and the Keurig was sitting on the counter. Eyes back to the box in the dining room. Back again to the appliance on the counter. What the … ? Crap. I was going to have to call him.
“Did you buy me a new Keurig?”
“Thank you. That was very nice.”
“You can have the old one for sentimentality if you want, but it’s up to you.”
“I’ll take the new one. That was kind. Thank you.”
So the dude bought me a new Keurig, which then of course brought up all of these new questions like — what the hell? I could’ve just bought a new Keurig. We don’t have the money for a new Keurig. Why couldn’t he just sacrifice the Keurig for me? Why does he always insist on his own way?
Then I remembered that ‘we’ don’t have money anymore. We’re legally separated, which means that he has his money, and I have my money. Well, he pays support, so technically it was his money, but you know what I mean. And the dude bought me a Keurig, when he could have given me mine and kept the new one for himself.
I mean, it’s not like we’re getting back together or anything, but I think it shows that he cares. And that could be a rekindling of a friendship.
How did a countertop appliance all of a sudden take on such significance?
I swear I’m living in Bizarro World.