Today’s tale is scary and true and requires mental toughness to read through. You’ve been warned.
I enjoy a morning cup of coffee.
Not true. I drink three cups most mornings. And “enjoy” doesn’t describe addiction. I must have my morning three.
My wife spurns coffee (yes, she has a flaw). Yet she often visits Starbucks, where her favored beverage is green. Like liquid guacamole. Blech!
So, I’ve long brewed my daily fix in a little drip coffee maker. I dump in water and grounds each night. Come morning, I dash to punch the “Brew” button, then scurry to shower and dress. The first sip of black ambrosia follows.
I observed that routine Thursday night and Friday morning – and emerged from primping to find …
No ambrosia.
Let that sink in.
No. Coffee.
The coffee maker’s green “Brew” light still beckoned. But not a drip had dropped, and the grounds were dry. I poked and pawed, unplugged and replugged – and nothing.
Nothing.
Even horror stories sometimes end happily. Within hours, I’d bought a coffee maker. Best $19.99 I ever spent.
Haha! Thank goodness for quick and easy replacements!
For sure!