Technology is a great thing. Even aging technology. Take coffee makers, for example. Perhaps these days we should call them brewers. Nonetheless, I've opted in recent years for the type of equipment that “brews” the coffee into a thermal container. We've moved way pass the glass bowels of Mr. Coffee, Bunn, Krups and the like. Remember the smell of burnt coffee after you left the dregs on the warming plate for just a bit too long?
I can bask in the luxury of warm, even hot coffee from morning until afternoon. Thanks to thermal pots.
No less or more important, a feature perhaps equally as intriguing in the coffee brewer product category is the 24-hour timer. While not as old as coffee brewing itself, this wonderful feature that allows you to grind your beans before bed, set up your brewer with water so at just the right time before your feet hit the floor out of bed you're smelling the coffee. For those of us who jump start the morning with the caffeine injection this is a compelling proposition. Waiting for coffee to brew in the morning brings out the most impatient qualities of our psyche. But thanks to timers, you shuffle yourself to the counter, poor a cup of coffee and your eyes start to open, your attitude starts to brighten and a morning smile emerges. Hmmm. Good.
This is all good, of course, provided the night before you are careful and complete in setting your coffee brewer. Far more simpler than a VCR, easier than your TiVO box and brainless as operating a microwave, it's hard to screw up. Perhaps the little dot that signifies AM or PM on the small LCD clock might throw someone off. But getting past this minor detail and your home free. Going to bed you're already dreaming about smelling the coffee..
That is. Unless you forget to put the thermal pot under the brewer.
Yes. You heard that right. Can we talk brainless? Simple? Easy? Who could forget such a basic thing prior to getting between the sheets. Yes. You guessed it. Me. Your truly. Moi. Yo. Dude. Me.
The rain was pouring all night. But instead of worrying about roof leaks, flooding, I simply dreamed of coffee. Waking up and smelling that beautiful aroma that sets your magic morning mood. The rain. Rhythm. Pitter. Patter. Nice sounds to help me fall asleep.
Many hours later, I barely hear it as I crack my eyes open. But it's there. I can hear the bubbling. The sound of hot boiling water. This time not the rain. But rather the coffee. Moments later still lying in bed I the aroma teases me as if wafts into the bedroom.
So I throw my feet onto the floor, slip on my robe and shuffle my was own the hall, pass the other bedrooms, the other bathroom, around the corner and into the great room. Smelling the wonderful coffee as I make my journey.
As I round the corner the first thing I see is a pool of liquid on the floor not far from the coffee brewer. My mind flashes. Shit. The rain. I do have a leak. I shuffle closer. Dirty water? Slowly I move my eyes from the floor up the past the cabinets to the counter. More dirty water. NO! Coffee. The thermal, the nice thermal pot just a tad six inches from its proper place. Coffee is everywhere. It dripped into the top drawer of the cabinets, eeked its way into the next one. Nice brown oozing stain on the fronts of my beautiful white kitchen cabinets.
And this is why I set my coffee to brew first thing. So I could wake up and clean up a friggiin' mess. Before my morning coffee.
