In Praise of Morning Coffee

I love my morning coffee.  In the Summer, I drink my cups outside on the front porch.  The birds chirp, I inhale the aroma of the first mug of joe, and all is right in my world.  On the coldest and darkest of Winter days, I summon the urge to get out of my warm nest of a bed because of the siren call of fresh-brewed coffee and the way the hot mug warms my cold hands.  If there is morning coffee for me, I can be sure that all will be right in my world.

December Mornings

I am an early riser.  Mornings are a time for me to check my e-mail and get some work done.  Whether that’s an e-mail that needs writing or an assortment of quizzes that need grading, I find that my day goes a little more smoothly if I’ve had some quiet to get started.  In the evening before I climb into bed, I set things up for my morning, with a coffee mug and a jug for cream set on a cheerful cloth napkin by the autostart coffee pot, which will finish brewing my coffee by the time I come downstairs in the morning.

In December, I move a few holiday coffee mugs to the front of the cupboard so that my morning has a little holiday cheer.  I’ve been setting out my coffee mug and creamer for at least 20 years now; the December tradition is just about 10 years old.  It’s an easy way for me to enjoy the dark December mornings, a reminder that the simple little pleasures are often the most pleasing.  That’s happy!  

Addiction Secure

Friday evening, T brought me a new coffee grinder, the treatment for Thursday's disaster.  In doing so, she has secured the gratitude of everyone who must deal with me today.  

Two is One and One is None

I am a serious coffee drinker.  On most mornings, I will drink four cups of coffee; it’s not unknown for me to pour as many as six.  The routine (and let’s face it, the caffeine) are a jump start to my days.  I take my coffee seriously. 

Each evening, I set out my coffee cup and the creamer of choice, ready soldiers for my day.  Then I grind my coffee beans and set the timer on my coffee pot so that there will be fresh-brewed coffee when I slink downstairs in the early morning.

A few months ago, my coffee bean grinder seemed about to give up the ghost.  T offered to buy me a new one but I demurred and (miraculously), the grinder recovered.  On Wednesday evening, the grinder didn’t work.  I checked the blade, re-seated it in the bin and it worked again.  I made a mental note that a replacement grinder is in order and then I went to bed.  Thursday morning, there was coffee for me to enjoy and I promptly forgot my grinder-troubles.

In hindsight, that was an error.  Thursday evening, I poured coffee beans into the grinder cup, set the lid on, pushed the button and heard a less than robust motor sound.  I removed the lid and had a look.  Uh-oh.

I tried to work the same magic that had paid off on Wednesday night.  The grinder motor ran, but the blade wasn’t turning.  I took out the beans, removed the cup and had a look.  The bolt that runs the grinder blade was stripped.

Game over.

I attempted to use my immersion blender to grind the beans.  This was not a success.

T, informed of my plight, offered up the suggestion that when I hit the store for a new grinder, I secure two.  Her justification?  The old military and disaster-preparedness motto:  Two is one and one is none.  Last night, that seemed like a bit of overkill.

This morning, with my empty coffee cup, it seems like a sensible plan.