Entropy
Poor La Cyn!
I was awakened by the sound of breaking glass this morning. The beautiful cascading melody of a glass-lined thermos coffee carafe splintering and shattering ... followed by a muted, "Ah fuck."
"What the fuck was that?" I muttered as I fumbled out of sleep and for my glasses, oops, wrong pair, need the bifocals not the reading glasses.
"The coffee pitcher tipped over and broke." La Cyn said as she began picking glass out of the sink where, thankfully, the epic tragedy had occurred.
I climbed up on the step stool and retrieved our Emergency Back Up 2 cup Coffee Maker from the top of the cabinets. Why do we have an Emergency Back Up 2 cup Coffee Maker? Because every damn electric coffee maker, like many small appliances these days, dies within a year, it's just the way they're made. And it's not like in Saigon, where I had A Guy for any situation/appliance/shoe/fan/bicycle/visa that needed fixing. If something broke, you didn't throw it away (where is away?), you found A Guy or your friend had A Guy and you got that shit fixed. Noooooo, here in America, something breaks, you throw it away, you cannot find anyone who'll fix your shit if it breaks. What a freakin' waste.
Anyway, last year at this time, just returning from Saigon, my coffee maker died an ignominious electrical death (like the last three), so I got La Cyn's coffee maker from our storage unit, and ... now it's broken. And the carafe can't be replaced because a) it was one of those Gevalia gift with purchase coffee makers; b) that style of coffee maker is no longer made.
So fuck it. It's time to go old school. It's time to go Chemex. You may think it's risky, bringing a beautiful piece of functional glass art into the House of Cats and Klutzy Women, and I do too, but at least I don't have to worry about this thing overflowing/burning the house down/making bad coffee.
I was awakened by the sound of breaking glass this morning. The beautiful cascading melody of a glass-lined thermos coffee carafe splintering and shattering ... followed by a muted, "Ah fuck."
"What the fuck was that?" I muttered as I fumbled out of sleep and for my glasses, oops, wrong pair, need the bifocals not the reading glasses.
"The coffee pitcher tipped over and broke." La Cyn said as she began picking glass out of the sink where, thankfully, the epic tragedy had occurred.
I climbed up on the step stool and retrieved our Emergency Back Up 2 cup Coffee Maker from the top of the cabinets. Why do we have an Emergency Back Up 2 cup Coffee Maker? Because every damn electric coffee maker, like many small appliances these days, dies within a year, it's just the way they're made. And it's not like in Saigon, where I had A Guy for any situation/appliance/shoe/fan/bicycle/visa that needed fixing. If something broke, you didn't throw it away (where is away?), you found A Guy or your friend had A Guy and you got that shit fixed. Noooooo, here in America, something breaks, you throw it away, you cannot find anyone who'll fix your shit if it breaks. What a freakin' waste.
Anyway, last year at this time, just returning from Saigon, my coffee maker died an ignominious electrical death (like the last three), so I got La Cyn's coffee maker from our storage unit, and ... now it's broken. And the carafe can't be replaced because a) it was one of those Gevalia gift with purchase coffee makers; b) that style of coffee maker is no longer made.
So fuck it. It's time to go old school. It's time to go Chemex. You may think it's risky, bringing a beautiful piece of functional glass art into the House of Cats and Klutzy Women, and I do too, but at least I don't have to worry about this thing overflowing/burning the house down/making bad coffee.