One does not—indeed, cannot—consider sufficiently the hazards and thwartings of what ancients (people who lived on Earth before there were electric coffee grinders) called huswifery.
This morning, for instance, the wife of the hus set out on a few errands. The routine might actually have been routine, had she been able to see more than her own average American female height ahead of her. But fog prevented this. She drove with her attention riveted on the prospects of whether another car, a pedestrian, a dog (dumb, even for a Labrador retriever), a horse, or a Romulan with his cloaking device engaged might be lurking in the fog ahead. Romulans frequent foggy valleys. They always drive cloaked vessels. To the self-respecting Romulan, headlights are an Earth thing.
But not fog nor Romulan kept our intrepid huswife from driving onward through the fog of Clarkston Heights, and then on through the even denser fog of Lewiston. She had places to go and people to see. And she had a coupon with her, a coupon good for $5 off a 12-ounce or larger bag of Millstone coffee. She set her mind on Organic Mayan Black Onyx Blend, Millstone’s darkest roast. If she could not find it at Rosauer’s or Safeway, she would settle for Italian Roast at the Clarkston Albertsons. How foolish to pay the Idaho sales tax when Washington has no sales tax on food. They make up for it with their gas tax. Borderlanders like our sensible huswife buy gas in Idaho and food in Washington.
Suspense inhered in her quest: would a Millstone dark blend belay her migraines as effectively as Starbucks dark coffees? It was the $5 question. Besides, she had an appointment with her dentist in the same sector of the foggy valley.
Her bush sense was keen; she did not pass the fog-shrouded entrance to Rosauers. Rosauers was easy: they no longer carried Millstone. Good decision. But $5 is $5. Safeway was a cinch, sporting exactly four Millstone varieties on their shelf, all of them nauseously flavored.
The fog lifted as the hygienist accomplished her work. Our huswife arrived home two hours later, without coffee but with fabulously clean and well-polished teeth. She would buy Millstone Italian Roast next week at Albertsons and redeem her valuable holographic coupon.
She arrived home quite hungry; she’d not eaten for more than four hours. But she was obliged to attend to other things before making any popcorn and Starbucks Espresso Roast coffee for lunch. The cat was not at peace. The cat’s food dish was empty. And the cat had thrown up in the living room.
The cat fed and the cat’s previous misappropriated portion cleaned up, our gainfully recaffeinated huswife relished the undertaking of other counter-entropy operations and looked forward to evening.