We sleep in different rooms. We both listen to audiobooks before sleep, and my wife says I snore, though I have never heard it.

I wake before she does. I make the coffee, wash the dishes, and open the curtains. Then I knock on her bedroom door and step in.

“Tutu-rutu-tuu. The coffee is ready.”

Downstairs, she says, “You opened the curtains. You are so kind and talented.”

I raise a hand and wag my index finger.

“You have no idea how right you are.”

For more essays, see my book  The Kitchen Buddha