Today, I noticed it. A puddle of water had formed under my coffeepot. At first, I thought it was a spill. I wanted it to be a spill. I needed it to be a spill. I didn't really want to consider the alternative.
After a brief investigation, however, I discovered a fatal flaw in the coffeepot. The water reservoir had just had it. A crack had developed at the bottom, where various planes of plastic came together and were fused to form a waterproof seal. There is nothing to be done for it, I don't want epoxy residue getting into my coffee.
So, ladies and gentlemen, raise a toast to my coffeepot, which has been with me since I started graduate school (it was my first purchase, before I even bought books or anything). Some quick and rough estimates lead me to believe I've brewed about a thousand gallons of coffee in it. That's about one cubic me: a cube that has sides the length of me. So, I guess that the pot has served me well. Time to get a new one.
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Now you know why I sometimes laugh for no apparent reason. Updated whenever the mood strikes me.
What the heck?
While this used to be a sort of random collection of thoughts, it evolved into an experiment: can I tell a story that people are interested in? Is it pure conceit to think of myself as a writer? So, there's a thread of entries under the label of "Pretty", which is the working title for my, ahem, book. Of all things. Anyway, you can see the posts organized into chronological order here:
Pretty Chronology
About Me
Neighbors on the Interweb
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1 comment:
That *is* sad, actually. But at least it its coffee-making life to its fullest.
Adieu, friend coffee maker. Adieu.
On the bright side, this opens the door to all sorts of exciting new coffee-making opportunities!
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