July 28, 2009

Today—thankfully—is the last day for this coffeemaker, my beautiful Cuisinart. I love this coffeemaker. It makes as many as 12 cups, but it has no pot. You have to put your cup underneath it and push a lever to get hot, fresh coffee that is never burned or old.

But it has been vulnerable to power surges and so the computer is now messed up. In other words, it makes coffee when it darn well feels like making coffee and not before! Which is not always convenient for me. I resent having to drive down the mountain for coffee in the morning, or boiling water and pouring it through the coffeemaker.

So today, thanks to a very prompt client payment, it goes away. What am I buying instead? Call me a fool, but I’m getting another one just like it. I just can’t quit the idea of hot, fresh coffee never burned or old.

 

June 9, 2009

You can’t force love. I should have known better. But I was attracted . . . and feeling so empty at the same time. I thought this would fill the emptiness. I picked it up, I put it down. I thought about the expense, but it really wasn’t much.

I should have listened to my hesitation. Now I’m stuck with a coffee mug that fills my soul less than the ones from the Dollar Store.  Esthetics really are so important.

 

July 22, 2008

I need an interpreter for my coffeemaker. Not for the instructions or parts, but for the day-to-day conversation we have. It’s a Cuisinart, one without a coffeepot. You make the coffee and then it sits in a little reservoir and you push down a button to get one cup at a time. Great system—coffee never tastes burned. And it automatically shuts off in two hours. I love it.

But lately my coffeemaker has not been loving me back. I do everything I’m supposed to do and then it makes coffee when it feels like it. Sometimes it’s more than an hour before I hear that magic little gurgle. I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded, I’ve unplugged and plugged like it was just another stupid computer . . . nothing works. I’ll admit I’ve gone as far as resorting to a little domestic violence (don’t judge me—I haven’t had my coffee yet!) but even a whack on the top of the coffeemaker does nothing more than scare the dog.

So what’s going on? Why has my coffeemaker chosen to withhold its regular morning affection? I change its little charcoal filter. I clean it with white vinegar monthly. I even give it a new flavor every so often, just to keep our relationship interesting. It couldn’t be mad just because a few mornings I’ve been in a hurry and had to grab a cup at the little coffeeshop down the mountain instead of brewing at home, could it? (That wasn’t something I planned, it just happened! Honest!)

So what is it, coffeemaker? Please, just tell me and I’ll fix it! I want our steady relationship back and I’ll do whatever it takes.