Only at my house
Background: Yesterday evening, I got up to make some tea. (Good background, right? I mean, that really sets the scene for you, doesn’t it?)
Me, to John: What size mug?
John: Mexican.
Let me explain. We don’t do sizes the normal way when it comes to mugs. Oh, no. Small, medium, large, tall, grande, venti – those are not descriptive enough. Here’s a selection of the mugs we use most often:
- In the front row, from left to right, we have littlest and little – these match our dishes. We’ve had them since we got married.
- In the middle row, also from left to right, the answer to the mug size question is college (the last remaining dishware from our college years – I think the rest of those dishes went to Tom after we graduated), Jess’s (no one uses those but her), Mexican (we bought them in Mexico, I swear), and big Mexican (same as the others, but bigger)
- And in the back row, we have the more obvious self-explanatory descriptions: Superman, Beatles, Mad Hatter
We have entirely too many mugs. Okay, now I need to know how many. Hang on.
You can let go now. 41. We have 41 mugs, not counting travel mugs. And how many people live here? Yeah. TWO. Ridiculous.