I have been completely distracted today. My brain can not grab on to any one thought for more than a few seconds. The first alarm went off around 5:15 this morning, followed by a series of drawer slams and flashes of light in the hallway. I pulled the covers over my head and hid, while my teenage daughter went through her morning ritual. It takes an hour to get that just-rolled-out-of-bed-beautiful look perfected, you know.
The second alarm went off at 6:00 am, my hand sneaking out from underneath the covers to disarm the irritating sound. As feet touched the ground, all I could think about was a steaming cup of coffee. And then I remembered yesterday.
The coffee pot‘s clock and ability to program a delayed start had come to a screeching halt last week. Waking up to the sweet bitter smell of Folgers was a thing of the past. I shuffled half asleep into the kitchen, preparing and waiting for my precious cup of wake up.
The coffee pot gurgled and sputtered. I waited impatiently.
“Mom, do you smell smoke?” asked The Tortoise.
I did smell something odd, for a moment I thought maybe she had burnt popcorn for breakfast. The smell was definitely smoke, and it was growing stronger by the second. The Tortoise and I started hunting all over the kitchen. We looked in the mud-room and in the garage. I even circled around the front rooms and ventured into the basement to check on the furnace. The only sound in the house was the grumbling of a coffee pot, the steaming rising thickly. I watched it waft into the air.
The smell of smoke was really poignant now.
Upon closer inspection, I realized that the “steam” from the coffee pot was not coming from the top vent, but rather funneling its way out the back. The water level indicator had not moved either, meaning the carafe was completely empty. I quickly pulled the plug out of the wall, noticing right away the unexpected heat of the chord and prong head.
Yesterday, my coffee pot died. It’s currently sitting on the counter, along with my favorite coffee mug. My counter top resembles some sort of shrine to the gods of all things caffeine. I waited as long as humanly possible before waking up The Hare yesterday. When I could stand it no longer I bribed her with a trip to Tim Horton‘s for donuts.
Unfortunately gluten intolerant people should never visit Tim Horton’s and certainly should not convince themselves that eating a doughnut (or three) is a good idea.
So again this morning I faced a perilous dilemma, where to get my coffee. The Hare was rather hopeful I would offer Tim Horton’s again. My stomach and my thighs were thankful I did not offer that as a solution. Instead we went through the drive-thru of our neighborhood Coffee Beanery for a large double cream, double Splenda house brew.
I am realizing now that I should have sprung for the Extra Large.