"HAND ME the salt," Tim calls out to me, extending his hand when I grab the shaker and pass it to him. He's been having a great morning bossing me around in the kitchen after I begged him early morning to prepare breakfast for Iris.
I wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed, but I didn't trust my culinary skills enough to provide her with an edible meal—so I called the professional. Tim was already up when I knocked on his door, going crazy after I told him to help me make breakfast for Iris.
I had to explain last night's events to him in detail, leaving Iris' heartfelt confession and the bet—obviously—to make him finally relax and head down to the kitchen with me. It started with the pans, he told me he couldn't reach for the top shelf so I helped him take it out—even though we have a gliding ladder in the kitchen.