Before we go any further, allow me to at least do the courtesy of explaining that my sense of humor is wacky. It’s weird. It’s nonsensical. I love it. I’ve tried to live like the quote, “Laugh at your problems and you’ll never run out of things to laugh about.” And I also laugh at everything else, so in the end, it’s still balances out.
My sweetie is a wonderfully amusing person to stare at (and yes, I am that creeper in an anime who just staaaares. Then there’s a 60% chance I’ll laugh. Okay, fine, 80%.) The reason he’s amusing is because he can pull off stoic like no one can. Stoic, silent, pensive, he can do it all, but my favorite has to be…his morning face.
His morning face is the kind of face that would make the effects of ex-lax happen almost instantaneously on a person. It is a scary face. It is a murdery face, made even more murdery by the fact that he’ll just sit there and stare for a bit until he actually wakes up.
Now I’m generally good at reading faces, possibly because I’ve made many faces faces myself:
I’m Dying Face (brought to you by the flu), Do I Need a Throat? (brought to you by strep throat), What Am I Doing? (brought by any day in the kitchen), Do I Even Have to Go? (brought to you by any time I look at my closet), I Want Pillows with My Coffee (brought to you by mornings), but I’ve never had a face like my sweetie has when he just wakes up.
And it’s adorable because I know he’s one of the sweetest and funniest people I’ve met, but ooooh, scary face, I want to poke it!
Or, maybe, I want to crack it?
Not too long ago, I loaded up the dishwasher (during this time, he’s asleep. He has to wake up earlier than me for work and, well, I tend write better at night – who knows why.) I was missing just one tiny space filler. Just one more thing, and I could run the thing. I look around the dining room and living room…and there is his teacup. Just calling to me.
And, as expected, it has leftover tea because he never drinks his tea in one go. He leaves a bit so he can drink some when he wakes up. So, I pour the leftover tea in a very obvious and tall plastic cup (rather than the reasonably sized teacups we use). And knowing him, he’ll notice (…I’ve tried to hide things before. I leave puzzle post-its! Poor puzzle post-its. Sigh. He always figures it out, but he’s grown up with riddles, so makes sense, I suppose).
When he notices, I’m going to be curious as to whether it’ll crack that face. The kind of face that even Wednesday Adams would be proud of.
And we all know even Wednesday Adams smiled.
Side Note: The day after, I inquired as to whether he noticed anything different. Apparently, he hadn’t, due to waking up with his alarm rather than before his alarm (…and this is why I can’t be the Mastermind in Leverage. I forgot that bit also tends to happen, though not as often). Sigh. I should’ve used a post-it (…and yes, I have stacks of them. For random shenanigans.)