HOW DO YOU TAKE YOURS?

I was turning over the maintenance organization I'd built at the Navy airfield in Rota, Spain. My relief was a gentleman who had married a beautiful local girl, transferred to Italy for a few years, and come back to be near her family. She had dragged him back to Rota, but apparently he was glad it was time for work this Monday because she'd had a rough weekend getting re-acquainted. We chuckled at how difficult it could be dealing with a wife who got what she wanted.

After an hour of file locations, weekly routines, maintenance plans, work project histories and forecasts, and colloquial procedures; he rose at eight and headed for the break room, asking, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, like my little bride," I said, nodding to the picture of my All-American sweetie above the desk, "blonde and sweet." He grinned, winked, and headed off around the corner while I answered an email.

The cup was good, but the next hour was long, and I got up for a stretch and a nine O'clock heater for our cups. On my way out, I asked, "How do you take yours?"

I should have seen his reply coming... "Oh, like MY little bride, dark and bitter!"