Souper
"Look, I got this soup mug," Gloria said. She handed it to me.It was hefty. Had a lid on it, so I couldn't see inside, but it felt like it was full of soup. "That's great," I said.
Later, I was going to have some dinner, and all plans had collapsed. "I think I'll just have that soup," I said.
"What soup?" Gloria asked.
"The soup in the mug."
There is no soup in the mug," she said.
"Wait, no soup? Then what's the use of it?"
"Well, it's a mug that you put soup in," she said.
"But there's no soup."
"It just holds soup. It doesn't come with soup."
"It should have already had soup," I said. "Have the soup that comes with purchase, then have a mug left over. Seems like a missed opportunity."
Two days later (today), I unloaded the dishwasher. In it, a ribbed, large mug. "Where do I put this thing?" I asked.
"That's the soup mug," Gloria said.
"Not to me."
She laughed. "You know that even if it had come with soup, the soup would be gone, and the mug would be exactly the same as it is now."
"Not exactly," I said. "I would have already had a positive experience with the mug, leading to a friendly relationship going forward. This way, it's been nothing but maintenance so far."
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," she said. Or something like that.
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