Coffee pots only die on Monday mornings.
Ours had been showing signs of its demise this past week, twice spilling its contents out over the rim of the filter and all over the counter and floor making a huge mess. The second time, I was close enough to recognize the signs, turn off the machine, and cut the mess by half. We puzzled over what was causing the problem, argued over theories, and let it go after cleaning up, refilling, and having a successful second brew.
But this morning, Monday, of course, it did it again and this time, there was no turning it off. I felt a little like Dave in 2001 trying to figure out how to disconnect Hal, since even when I pulled the cord out, the thing kept making a pitiful buzzing sound, with its red light half lit, the clock reset to 12:00, half-fogged as though leaving an imprint of its dying breath.
Which would be much more poetic if I weren't standing there sopping up its dying excretions and billions of coffee grounds, wondering what in the heck I was going to do for my Monday morning coffee fix. Sorry, old friend, but we've all got our problems.
Target doesn't open until 8:00, when I'm starting work (which is the silliest thing ever -- you've got thousands of people in a one mile radius that would run by there between 7 and 8 to grab something on the way to work after dropping the kids at school if they'd open an hour earlier), and a run to Walmart requires driving through four school zones and madness during morning drop-off time or getting into standstill traffic on the highway.
After dropping Sam off at school, now almost an hour after typical first-coffee, I note that I have 8 miles to empty and will need to fill up while I ponder the irritations of the neighborhood without my caffeine. It's while I'm filling up that I lift my eyes unto the sunrise, glowing across the street, the heavens parting, just over the red brick of the Walgreens, open 24 hours.
It's worth a shot.
They have two coffee makers in stock, a ten cup and a five cup. Ok, now they have one five cup.
$20 bucks and a short drive back home and we're in business.
I threw caution to wind, laughed in the face of danger, and completely ignored this ridiculousness:
And after a wash out and a plug in akin to the panic seen only in emergency rooms with crash carts, the beautiful steam and glug-glug sounds of the elixir of life were pulsing into the waiting coffee pot.
What's the old heartbreak adage? The only remedy for love is to love more.
Ours had been showing signs of its demise this past week, twice spilling its contents out over the rim of the filter and all over the counter and floor making a huge mess. The second time, I was close enough to recognize the signs, turn off the machine, and cut the mess by half. We puzzled over what was causing the problem, argued over theories, and let it go after cleaning up, refilling, and having a successful second brew.
But this morning, Monday, of course, it did it again and this time, there was no turning it off. I felt a little like Dave in 2001 trying to figure out how to disconnect Hal, since even when I pulled the cord out, the thing kept making a pitiful buzzing sound, with its red light half lit, the clock reset to 12:00, half-fogged as though leaving an imprint of its dying breath.
Which would be much more poetic if I weren't standing there sopping up its dying excretions and billions of coffee grounds, wondering what in the heck I was going to do for my Monday morning coffee fix. Sorry, old friend, but we've all got our problems.
Target doesn't open until 8:00, when I'm starting work (which is the silliest thing ever -- you've got thousands of people in a one mile radius that would run by there between 7 and 8 to grab something on the way to work after dropping the kids at school if they'd open an hour earlier), and a run to Walmart requires driving through four school zones and madness during morning drop-off time or getting into standstill traffic on the highway.
After dropping Sam off at school, now almost an hour after typical first-coffee, I note that I have 8 miles to empty and will need to fill up while I ponder the irritations of the neighborhood without my caffeine. It's while I'm filling up that I lift my eyes unto the sunrise, glowing across the street, the heavens parting, just over the red brick of the Walgreens, open 24 hours.
It's worth a shot.
They have two coffee makers in stock, a ten cup and a five cup. Ok, now they have one five cup.
$20 bucks and a short drive back home and we're in business.
I threw caution to wind, laughed in the face of danger, and completely ignored this ridiculousness:
And after a wash out and a plug in akin to the panic seen only in emergency rooms with crash carts, the beautiful steam and glug-glug sounds of the elixir of life were pulsing into the waiting coffee pot.
What's the old heartbreak adage? The only remedy for love is to love more.
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