Mornings Without Coffee

The other day we were removing the coffee pot from the dishwasher while it was still hot.  An unintentional, yet undue, amount of pressure, and the pot cracked — and now we are without coffee in the morning.

This is probably, oh, I don’t know, the thousandth time we have broken a glass coffee pot.  Why do they have to be so absurdly delicate?  I wonder whether we might just be better off returning to the stainless steel percolators of my youth.  Those sturdy devices could be dropped by a clumsy kid charged with drying the dishes — or, for that matter, hurled full force against a brick wall by an angry Dick Butkus — and still be fully operational.  Now that I think of it, I might be willing to endure a subtle metallic tang in the morning roast in exchange for the security of increased durability.

Of course, we can get a replacement pot.  However, it is a Cuisinart coffeemaker, so you can’t get the pot just anywhere.  We’ll now have to brave the parking space hell and frenzied hordes of holiday shoppers at Easton, thereby raising our blood pressure and stress levels to stratospheric heights.

In the meantime, the coffee maker looks kind of forlorn, sitting there with a gaping void at its black heart. And the absence of coffee in the morning leaves a pretty huge hole in the morning routine.

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