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Silver Lining Snooze

It could be worse...I could be in the ditch right now.

I maintain a tenuous relationship with my coffee pot. Every time I enjoy a little java at a friend’s house, I’m convinced that their coffee tastes better than mine. I’ve owned espresso and auto drip machines, percolators and French presses. A couple years ago, I settled in on a big, honkin’ Bunn, but she’s a little unpredictable and prone to tantrums.

When mineral deposits develop, she leaks like crazy. Last night I decided to make make a pre-emptive strike and clean her up a bit. My house smelled like a salad bar all evening as I poured vinegar through her innards. There’s also this stupid little tool that you shove into the place where the water comes out that is supposed to help the process, but I have sincere doubts. This practice is inconvenient, but I was craving good coffee so I thought it would be worth the effort.

As I sat writing in my chair this morning trying to unite my body with the mind that hit the snooze one too many times, I heard a funny noise coming from the kitchen. I got up and coffee was spewing all over the counter and floor. At 5:15 in the morning I need to pour coffee through an IV, not plop into an ER triage trying to clean up the bloody mess. Have you ever tried to wipe up coffee grounds? They must contain some electro-magnetic charge because they adhere to everything.

These stupid grounds always end up floating in my coffee leaving me spitting like I have a big wad of Red Man chewing tobacco shoved in my cheek. I may say I like to chew my coffee, but I much prefer chomping on bagels. I poured one cup to tide me over and made another pot, and the same damn thing happened.

Was this a premonition of what the rest of the day promised? Do you ever get that feeling first thing in the morning and just want to run for cover?

Instead, I pulled out my over-sized silver lining that my mom burdened me with at birth and went about my day. At least my counter and floor were sparkly clean, and facing a mess like that so early woke me up.

I really can’t decide if I should be thankful for the “it could be worse” crap, or curse my mom every time it comes to mind. My only consolation is that I use it on my son so I know I’m carrying on the tradition. That gives me way more satisfaction than what I think is probably appropriate. Oh well, it could be worse…

I ended up having a pretty good day. The drive home was a little hairy because bad weather moved in right before rush hour. It took me a half hour to drive about five blocks, but once I got on the freeway things picked up a bit. By the time I got out of the city, I felt like I was flying as I peaked at 55 mph. We arrived home, and Russell grumped around all evening because classes weren’t cancelled yet for tomorrow. I couldn’t help myself when I said in my mom’s freaking sing-song voice that I remember from when I was 13, “On the other hand, if you get your work done now and school cancels, think about how happy you’ll be.”


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