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Wed. May 08, 2002

A Blue Morning

A Blue Morning – Christmas of 2000, the woman I love gave me a piece of machinery I considered one of mankind’s greatest achievements; the Cuisinart Grind n’ Brew. A glorious blend of technology, it allows one to insert the proper quantity of whole beans and water, it dances a mean grind, rattle and roll on your countertop, and out comes the most delicious stream of caffeinated goodness.

It has become a close friend, my first addled stop of the morning, and even part of my cat’s ritual; the sound of the grinding beginning means it’s time for her to be fed. This morning was no different, and I left home with my usual travel mug of brown nectar.

When I returned at lunchtime, I noticed the little red LED light was still on, though I felt certain I’d turned it off. I pushed the button, and the light stayed on. Hmm. So I completely unplugged the unit, thinking I could ”reboot” it … and the light stayed on, despite the distinct lack of electricity.

This was not a good sign.

Somewhat distressed (meaning, I’d planned on making fresh pot), I was also distracted with messages, and decided to take Melanie’s advice and let it rest. Sure enough, about an hour later, I plugged it in, and everything worked fine. Fresh coffee was brewed, the pleasant beep of coffee completion was sounded, but it quickly began to smell like … something other than coffee. I walked into the kitchen in time to watch my poor Grind n’ Brew die an ugly and smoke filled death. I’d rather not remember it in detail right now. All I can say is, that poor little red light stayed on a long time after I unplugged it. Then, it slowly faded out.

But I salvaged the last pot of coffee.

I’m not a man of immense needs. I’ve always said, if I have my computer, my cameras, and my coffee pot, I’m fine. This morning, I’m probably not gonna be fine. As I sip on Folgers ground at some unknown time in the distant past, I’m probably gonna be grumpy.

Just for a little while.