The Scalded Fingers

This morning was an early start, particularly for a Sunday, and such things usually end badly for someone. Usually me as it happens! When The Owner hasn't had enough sleep his temper isn't at its best and then one of my little indiscretions unleashes much angst. I could have had no idea of the turn of events which would have resulted from this early rise on the the part of The Owner. It was well before Blackbird came and sat on the gutter above the porch door and starts shouting about his prowess in the lady department, when I heard the now customary descent of the stairs above me ending predictably with him missing the bottom step and joining the rack of DVDs at the foot of the stairs. Having recovered from his launch into the morning he came wandering through to let me out. I really must get the hang of this back door opening inwards! I am sure my head is getting a ridge down the side from my efforts at rushing through the door before it is quite open enough and squashing my head against the radiator. That was just the start of it and the only bit today which so far has involved me. He is on an economy drive again and although it is way before daylight, he doesn't put the kitchen lights on. He declares to any who will listen that "We didn't have electric lights in days gone by and managed then". I think he did have electric lights, but we won't argue that point here. I heard the tea caddy opened, then count the teaspoonfuls of tea... 1..... 2 ....3. All good so far. The kettle is starting to sing nicely above on the table then the sugar pot is opened, I hear him count out loud "..1......and a little bit because I am worth it". He then laughs gently at his own joke. It's going well. The kettle boils and lets out a loud click and he pours the water quickly into the pot and then fumbles around until he can find the lid to the teapot and put it on. Why doesn't he just turn the lights on??? Milk next; I hear the milk lid being unscrewed and slopped into the cup... long pause.....much swearing starts above me and I return to my bed where it is safe but I can still keep an eye on him. The tea leaves were put in the cup and he now has a teapot full of nothing but hot water! A second kettle was put on and his cup full of tea leaves, milk and sugar was poured down the sink and rinsed out ready for the next attempt. As the kettle was starting to get to it's crescendo he was trying to make sure he hadn't already put tea leaves into the pot already, so stuck his fingers in the teapot to make sure. Yes that would be the same pot which is already full of recently boiled water and hasn't yet been emptied! Why doesn't he just turn on the lights??? He is now, predictably, walking round with a hand so fully bandaged it looks as though he has got his hand stuck in a small white football! So far he has found no one to get any sympathy from, so I suspect there may be a trip to the pub at lunch time and I will try and find a way of escaping the embarrassment. How has he made it this far in life??