Last Friday I took the day off from work so I could do my
own thing, which meant doing something for everyone else, since it was the
Friday before Christmas and I had very-last-minute shopping to do. I was barely
awake when Spouse came into the bedroom with his breakfast on a plate and
obvious distress in his eyes.
“We have a BIG problem,” he said in a semi-tragic tone.
Before I had a chance to ask what could possibly be so terrible, he uttered a
phrase that can strike terror into the hearts of even a morning person.
“The coffee maker died.”
No. No No No.
Not on a Friday. Not on my day off. Not before I had even a sip of life-giving
java. Tell me one of the cats destroyed our living room curtains (which I wanted
to replace). Tell me someone broke in and stole all our furniture (which I also
wanted to replace). Just please - don’t even hint at the suggestion of a
coffee-less morning.
Spouse somehow dragged himself to work where he would be
able to hit the coffee bar, but Second Born and I were on our own. There was
only one thing to do. Just as a mother eagle soars through the air and hunts
for sustenance in order to help her babies thrive, I knew I had to be the hero.
I threw sweats on over my pajamas, crawled to the car and drove to the corner
store. What I discovered there was nothing short of Coffee Utopia.
Toward the back of the store stood a display of 25
beautiful, shiny coffee urns, each with a unique flavor or strength. My heart
leaped with joy, but my eyes swept over this plethora of caffeine choices with
a sense of panic. How do I choose
between Cinnamon Sugar Cookie and Egg Nog? Wait – is that Pecan Sticky Buns?
Toasted Marshmallow Mocha? “What is this place?” I whispered in awe.
The choice was heart wrenching. After several minutes of
indecision over the two rows of caffeinated (and decaf, to be fair) goodness, I
eventually went with Plan B. I narrowed it down to two flavors and left with a
pledge to return to this wondrous place.
Plan A had been to bring home eight cups.
I returned home and walked in the door to find Second Born
staring into space. At my appearance she exclaimed, “Oh thank goodness,” and
lunged for one of the two cups in my hand.
I needed the caffeine boost to start my morning more than
ever, especially now that the crucial task of finding a new coffee maker had to
be done before the sun set on our collection of coffee mugs.

Here’s the thing about the models on those lists. If you
want Model XR-43383 you probably won’t get any closer than XR-43380. It’s bait
and switch – bait them with the promise of awesomeness and switch it to the one
they overstocked.
After 15 minutes of nothing matching up, Second Born
suggested ordering one online. I stared at her as if we could not possibly be
related. Wait at least four days for delivery because of the holiday? We would
have to cancel Christmas. She hung her head in shame.
About that relentless pursuit… we grabbed one with the
features we wanted (you know, like brewing coffee) and called it a day.
The next morning the sound and scent of coffee grounds and
water harmoniously blending wafted down the hallway. All was right with the
world once again, but there is one little thing. I believe a cup of Jamaican Me
Crazy is still calling me from the corner store.
Ok. That was hilarious. I was hanging on every word....
ReplyDeleteThanks, girl! It was a harrowing experience but I suffered through it! ;-)
ReplyDelete