the one about pie that's not really about pie

Earlier today, I informed Husband I bought him a present at the farmer's market. I can't say what it is, because then Husband will find out before he gets here. He is going to like it.

Husband informed me that he bought a gallon of apple cider. Husband really likes cider; however, he often buys more than he has a capacity to consume. For instance: today, when he bought a gallon of cider and is leaving it for a weekend. As it is not pasturized, it will be apple cider vinegar by the time he gets back.  [EDIT: Husband claims he bought the cider yesterday. This improves the situation by 0.97%, which is really small.]

Husband then started talking kind of crazy and hyper. I said, "Stop drinking cider." He informed me he'd had three glasses already. That's a lot of sugar. Good, natural sugar, but sugar all the same, and Husband complains enough about the state of his pancreas. I think his pancreas needs antidepressants or something.

One thing I bought for me at the farmer's market was two mini-pies. I'm talking two inches round, and for my snack prior to class tonight. One apple crumb, one pumpkin. I began to eat it when Husband came back from a walk, upon which he planned to buy cheese. I asked him if he had bought cheese in the following manner:

Edited for punctuation and capitalization.

Me: CHEESE is the question, and CHEESE is the answer. I think that requires question marks. Here are some: ????????????????

Husband: Um, stop drinking cider?

Me: I have no cider I have pie

Husband: Same thing?

Me: Um, one is liquid the other is solid

Husband: For craziness?

Me: Au contraire. One is pie and the other is ... not pie. Liquid goes to your brain faster. Because you swallow it and it goes directly into your blood. Pie / solid has to be broken down into molecules of co7 and stuff, and that takes longer, and there is some splitting of atoms.

Husband: Oh, co7

Bottom line: The sugar contained in apples--named co7 for our purposes, because my copious knowledge of science, molecules, and chemistry tells me that--makes you communicate via Gchat in run-on sentences, which are not really sentences, because you don't use punctuation.

co7 = punctuation depleter.

Watch out for it on the news. It's going to be all the rage.

the one about caffeine

Caffeine is important.

Unfortunately, it is virtually impossible to discern whether or not you have consumed caffeine without the proper labels. Take the following example:

Husband was making coffee. (By "coffee," I mean "espresso," since the kind gift of an espresso machine a few years ago has transformed Husband and I from occasional morning coffee drinkers to people who turn into dinosaurs without a morning espresso beverages. I drink it straight. He uses milk. Wimp.) We have two identical but labeled containers of ground coffee, stacked one atop the other. For purposes of caffeine consumption, the caffeinated is always on top. I doubt I have ever made a decaf espresso for myself in my life, as it defeats the concept of coffee.

Husband: Decaf is on top.
Self: What?! 

Husband: The decaf is on top.
Self: Do you mean to tell me that I have been drinking DECAF all week?

Here's the interlude where I tell you that for approximately four days of the week, Husband lives in a different city.  Generally Tuesday through Friday I make coffee for myself. And never look at the label on the container of coffee, for obvious reasons.

Cut to me, pre-caffeine, upset-ly blaming Husband for my lack of caffeine all week. You see, Husband ground coffee over the weekend, thus disturbing the order of the containers. Containers must be moved in order to use the grinder. How, why, or even when decaf ended up on top, neither of us knows. Husband insists that I could have read the container, but I admonish this as unnecessary, because caf is always on top.

He made the coffee, putting mine in the orange cup and using the matching orange saucer just to spite me. I like to mismatch my cup and saucer. He does not. He says, "Your espresso today is sponsored by the San Francisco Giants." (Scroll down to the entry about how the responsibility of being the good luck charm for the San Francisco Giants is too much responsibility for me.) He gets a glare. I'm sorry, Husband.

I drink the coffee, managing to spill sugar all over the place, because the adorable sugar shaker we recently received is more adorable than it is efficient at dispensing the correct amount of sugar in a timely manner. (But he matches our lady grater, so he will stay. What we required was a sugar pot, but none match the grater. Grater and sugar pot must match?) I eat 90% of my cereal, leaving the rest for Husband who is eating olive bread for breakfast. I have already growled at him because he thanked me for getting him olive bread, when I had in fact gotten the olive bread for myself, but not without him in mind. But I'm really picky about word choice all the time, and lack of caffeine intensifies this.

I depart, thankfully having charged my iPod prior to its death. On the subway, I begin to worry. What if the lids just got mixed up? What if today's coffee was the decaf? How will I know? I didn't get a Metro today. If I didn't want to read, I must be lacking in stimulants. I have closed my eyes in order to better daydream to music. I may fall asleep! I could fall onto subway tracks! My anger remains completely unchecked without proper stimulant consumption! I will be unable to focus on work...or the blogs I read when there isn't enough work to do! The headache!  The headache!! There are holes in my armor!

One of the reasons I so derided Husband about the possible mix-up was the nagging fact that my office has been a steady 107 degrees all week, give or take. It's been a balmy 75 where I live; unseasonable for October, and they had already switched the building over to heat. It went from heat inside with some more outside to heat outside with no air inside and some windows open, but I work in a cubicle in a hallway, and it doesn't have windows. Rumor has it the hallway windows (all three of them) are bolted shut anyway. Cubicle dwellers more prone to suicide? 

You do the math: Heat + probable lack of caffeine = headache that doesn't go away, it just simply lets up enough to let me sleep. Thanks, Husband who rarely gets headaches.

The moral of the story is: I have no idea which is which. It's unlikely the husband removed the lid from the decaf when filling the caf with grounds. He does odd things sometimes--as do we all--but opening a container full of something he does not want to refill when refilling something else is above and beyond all oddness. My office is more seasonable today, and I have supplemented my possibly-caffeinated espresso with a cup of Lipton tea.

My head feels like it's in a vise, but the vise is loose. I am still tempted to dump all the coffee and start over. It's that important, people.