Square Peg ● Round Hole







Yesterday felt like a Monday. Oh, right, it was. I shared my ordeal with accomplishing the simple task of making coffee. It seemed that the day was off-kilter, but I was determined to grab it by the throat and bend it to my will. Sometimes I crack myself up. Anyway, that’s not how it went.

I was getting ready to go workout when Brian asked for my help with the coffee maker. Apparently, even with water, it was being difficult and I suppose, that I am the Keurig whisperer. Anyway, I made sure everything was put in it place and slammed my hand on the top of it. Boom! Coffee was being made and I went on my merrier way.

My workout brings me peace. It makes me feel like I can accomplish anything. I was full of ideas for new chapter concepts for my book as I headed upstairs. I was in a peaceful state, that is until my spouse literally bellows that the coffee maker isn’t working as he couldn’t get the second round of his beverage to brew. Friends, my husband’s coffee cup is the size of a soup bowl. His annoyance at not getting his coffee jolted me and not in a good way. All my calming exercise mojo flew out the window along with my compassion about his stupid soup bowl not being filled with coffee. But being the ideal spouse, (Yes, I am laughing at that statement too. It was hard to write with a straight face.), I troubleshooted the damn thing. The end result was it was dead. Maybe I killed it by forgetting to put water in it. I literally bought it six weeks ago and from the reviews, which I should have read before the purchase, this particular model is crap. Plus I already have passed the window to return it. In the meantime, I told my spouse to be grateful for the coffee he had, and that I would order a new Keurig that wasn’t an asshole. My spouse needed a chill pill.

I wrote a scathing review for the Keurig-mini, and issued a complaint in an effort to get my money back. Imagine my surprise when the earliest I can get it my new caffeine machine, is Wednesday. I remember the good ole days when I could get it within 24 hours. Whatever.

This morning, I needed my coffee fix, so my Clorox wipes and I ventured to our local coffee shop. It was a tad eerie with very little traffic and no line wrapped around the establishment at 7 o’clock in the morning. This is how I ordered my coffee, “I would like the largest cup of your boldest, darkest coffee that could potentially kick my ass.” I am feeling a little spunky this morning and the girl taking my order didn’t respond to my wit. “Please pull around” was all she said. Tough crowd.

So I wipe down my credit card with my handy Clorox wipes and hand it to her. I smile at her commenting on how the card is germ-free, and she looks at me like I have twelve heads. She hands me a pen, my card, and the receipt to sign which I proceed to wipe down. I hand it back to her while she hands me my coffee ,which I take from her with my hand wrapped with my delightful germ-killing wipe. Her face looked annoyed. I suppose when you are that young, you feel invincible. Or maybe she is just jealous of my tight relationship with my germ protector. I suppose I should not expect people to be grateful for my efforts.

So, my Tuesday has started out much better than Monday. And while, I will venture out tomorrow to purchase my caffeine, I think I will go somewhere else. You know, break up the monotony. My Clorox wipes are begging for a change of scenery, so I will honor their request. After all, they are the heroes in this story.