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.