Coffee Junkie Needs a Fix

Our coffee maker died the other day. I set up the machine exactly as I do each morning — first the filter, then a couple scoops of ground coffee, then water — and flipped the switch on. I learned in the past that if I’m not paying attention and do things out of sequence — for example: first a couple scoops of ground coffee, then the filter, then water — the final product has a somewhat robust and crunchy flavor. Which actually isn’t so bad except for the coffee grounds stuck in my teeth for the rest of the day.

When I came back into the kitchen ten minutes later, I was startled to see that there was nothing in the coffee pot. I shrieked as if I were Homer Simpson noticing the donut box was empty. (On second thought, I shrieked as if I were Bill Dunn noticing the donut box was empty.) How could I possibly start the day — how could I possibly go on living?! — without coffee in the morning?

Then I saw a sizable puddle of liquid emanating from the base of the coffee maker and spreading out over the kitchen counter. I touched it with my finger; it was warm. In the early morning darkness I couldn’t tell if it was clear warm water, or brown warm water which had passed through the ground coffee. There was only one way to find out.

Wait a minute, I know what you’re thinking. I did NOT start lapping at the liquid like a dehydrated dog. As I was bending over with my tongue extended, I remembered I also could identify the liquid by turning on the kitchen light, which I did. (Have you ever noticed that as far as your eyes are concerned, turning on the kitchen light at 5:30 a.m. is a lot like staring at a nuclear detonation?)

Anyway, it turned out to be just warm water. So, I quickly got dressed, jumped into my car, and began a frantic search for something, anything, hot and black and liquidy. I would’ve drained the oil from my car’s engine, but it hadn’t heated up enough at that point.

My first stop was a nearby convenience store. To my horror, it was closed. A sign on the front door read, “Hours of operation: 6 AM to Midnight, 7 days per week.” I pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “Slackers!” I yelled. “Doesn’t anyone have a decent work ethic anymore?!”

My next stop was a Dunkin Donuts, where thankfully, mercifully, I was able to satiate my caffeine craving. After some reflection, I’d like to offer a couple of belated apologies: to the young lady behind the counter, I didn’t mean to splash hot coffee on your arm when I reached across the counter and yanked the cup out of your hand as you attempted to secure the travel lid. That type of burn should heal fairly quickly. And to the elderly woman who was standing to my left as I approached the counter, I didn’t mean to hip-check you to the floor, but I WAS next in line. That type of fracture should heal fairly quickly.

On the way home from work that evening, I stopped by Walmart and was pleased to find coffee makers on sale for $40. When I arrived home, my wife was kind of upset that I had charged $200 on our credit card. I’m not sure why she was angry. Based on what I went through that morning, it didn’t strike me as unreasonable to have four emergency back-up coffee makers in the house. 

I wonder what she’ll say when I tell her I just mortgaged the house to buy a Dunkin Donuts franchise?