Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Boring Story Told Dramatically – Part Une

I often ponder whether I should say something to her. Or perhaps it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. Though it's not her fault, I continue to blame her - every day of my goddamn life.

Pam told me to buy a “better” coffeemaker. You’re not in college anymore, she said. Don’t buy a cheapo. I agreed. I didn’t have to buy your basic $15 coffeemaker anymore. I could buy something a bit more sophisticated. Upscale. And that’s exactly what I did.

I looked at Pam as we exited the store and thought, “That’s what friends are for. They guide, advise. Thanks, friend.” She caught me looking at her and I smiled, gratefully. She smiled back, knowingly.

Little did I know those innocent smiles would portend a domestic nightmare from which I could not awake. Since the arrival of the new coffeemaker, my life has become a living hell, unpredictable, full of torment.

Why, you question?

Because the coffee filter often folds in on itself during the drip process. The result is coffee grounds in my coffee. But wait! No! Not just grounds in my coffee: weaker coffee because the water doesn't drip through properly – lifeless, tepid brown, gritty water, unfit fit for a septic tank.

In short, my life has been irrevocably altered.

Every morning now, I walk into my kitchen with trepidation. Will this be a good coffee day or a bad coffee day? I never know. I never know!

Oh, you think it’s me? It’s something I’m doing wrong? No, no sir. It is not. And I resent your implications that I’m to blame.

Every step is closely monitored to ensure the best possible results. Each filter needs to be in perfect form, not misshapen in the least or chaos will ensue. Once, I accidentally placed an object on the package of filters and did I pay. Oh, dearly! All the filters were contorted just enough to be problematic, no matter how much I tried to mold them back to their…

Wait, I’m not done!

Their shape. So for months, I had many bad coffee days. I waited patiently for the day when I could buy new filters, filters in their original, innocent form. Until then, I silently suffered, morning upon morning upon morning. When I finally bought a new pack, I can’t express the relief I felt. Maybe now, my life would return to a semblance of normalcy. But guess what, fair reader?


Oh God, it's so true.

This morning, I looked at the filter and thought, “You’re a good one. You’re in perfect shape. You should serve me well.” But guess what? It didn’t. The motherfucker folded in on itself, again, leaving me to drink hot grit water.

No, no…I haven’t told Pam yet. Dare I? Frankly, we haven’t been speaking much lately and occasionally I wonder if this coffee maker business is the real reason. She misled me and I feel...

Listen! I said, listen!

Betrayed. There are lots of things I can look beyond in a friendship. Hell, we all have our flaws, right? But I can’t seem to move past something of this magnitude. I’m not Jesus, you know! I can’t just turn the other cheek.

Or perhaps its time to turn that pointing finger back to the real source of the problem: me. Had I not been so gullible, so eager to “keep up with the Joneses”, I might have said, “You know what Pam - YOU may need a coffeemaker with all the bells and whistles. But I don’t. I’m a simple woman with simple needs. Now back the hell off!”

But I didn’t. And I’ll have to live with the consequences of being a mindless sheep for some time to come.

Hope for me a good coffee day tomorrow. I shall do the same for you.

God speed.

1 comment:

Cleaning Cleveland said...

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