Six-Hour Hot Chocolate

I should preface this story with one important truth: I have an excellent husband. He watches the Golden Girls with me on a nightly basis, washes more dishes than I do and is incredibly patient with what he calls the soundtrack of my life. (Track one: "I lost my keys!" Track two: "Where's my phone?" And so on.)

He is also letting me tell the following story, and I'm grateful.

On Friday night, we watched Up for the first time. It's a great movie but it completely destroyed me. I cried for about half the movie because the love story was so sweet and tragic -- and I was laughing hysterically during the rest. ("I was hiding under your porch because I love you!") Emotional whiplash took its toll, and as the final credits rolled, I decided I needed a pick-me-up.

So I asked Jonathan, who was sitting next to me on the couch, if he could make us hot chocolate. In another awesome-husband move, he got up and made his way to the kitchen. Moments later, I get a question.




"How do you want me to make this?"

Not such a weird question, I guess. Around Christmas I made it from scratch with chocolate chips and milk and cinnamon. But in everyday life, it's Great Value powder and hot water from the coffee pot.

Me: "Coffee pot!"
Him: "Okay!"

I hear him tinker around for a bit, and moments later he's back on the couch with me.

We watch TV for a bit, and I am assuming the entire time that we're waiting for water to run through the coffee pot.

Then Jonathan goes back to the kitchen, and asks another question:

"How do you tell when it's hot?"

I immediately start laughing so hard that I can hardly breathe. Because even though I cannot see the scene in the kitchen, I can imagine it perfectly: My sweet husband is staring at a coffee pot full of cold water that, minutes before, he'd filled and promptly sat on the warmer. Without pouring the water through the machine.

This, my friends, is six-hour hot chocolate. Or more.

I think this is probably one of those you-had-to-be-there stories. But I thought it was worth telling, on the chance someone gets a laugh half as good as mine.