The message I got from Elsbeth the other morning when I went down to fix my breakfast while she was poking around in the closet (trying to decide which of 97 tops to wear) was the remainder of a loaf of olive bread I found on the kitchen counter.

The silent message was to use this bread up because we have run out of English muffins.

Another message I get every morning is a little plastic cup with a handful of vitamin pills, a towel draped over the dishwasher door reminding me not to mash the door closed with my hip as the stuff inside was already washed, and if I do the dratted machine will go through the cycle again.

A small amber drinking glass is on the counter to remind me to drink my orange juice.

So I made the coffee and the toast and was smearing some strawberry jam on a crunchy chunk of the bread when it flew out of my hand and landed on the carpet.

Jelly side down, of course.

Before it got there though it hit my freshly ironed shirtfront and my pants leg in three places.

It was her fault, of course. I have never dropped an English muffin.

There was no way out. I grabbed a washcloth, soaked it in water, scrubbed my clothing leaving big pink wet spots. I picked up the sticky chunk on the carpet, and (waste not want not) thought about eating it anyway and discarded it in the trash bag.

And started over.

When she appeared on the scene she instantly spotted my pink spots and asked what had happened.

My attempt to blame her fell on deaf ears (instead of the floor), and then I gave up and fled upstairs to change clothes.

This week she goes back to the doctors to have a new hip implanted. Last year before she got a new knee she taught me how to use the microwave, make the coffee, boil eggs, make a salad, cook spaghetti 'till it is chewy (don't throw it against the wall), and where she keeps the peanut butter.

So this time after my bionic bride comes home I will be prepared.

Now I know where the can opener is so we can have Dinty Moore stew, Campbells chunky chicken noodle soup, Van Camps pork and beans, Stauffers chicken pot pie, and, of course, peanut butter and strawberry jelly on English muffins.

No olive bread.