I haven’t had a cup of coffee in weeks. I haven’t made a cup of coffee in months. It’s been an unwelcome change in my life.
When I moved, I had to ship whatever belongings I couldn’t stuff in my suitcases. This meant leaving any “inessentials” behind. While it was good news for the family members who inherited my Ralph Lauren towels and satin sheets, it was a bummer for me. Sadly, the “inessentials” included my one-cup coffee brewer. Ol’ Mr. Black & Decker got me through hundreds of too-early mornings and too-late nights. He could get me from sleeping to sipping in under three minutes. True love.
But, alas, he could not come! Fortunately, or so I thought, between holiday gifts and graduation gifts, I arrived in Philly with $70 in Starbucks gift cards. Instead of slowly drinking away that $70 in tall, non-fat, sugar-free, cinnamon lattes, I decided I’d buy a French press. I felt so hip and cultured carrying home my new press and fresh beans. At first, I used it daily, but from boiling the water to steeping the coffee, it was a full 20 minutes before I had a cup to drink.
That just would not do.
The novelty of pressed coffee wore off damn quick. I stopped making coffee and instead became a pathetic coffee beggar. Now, I sneak down to the kitchen after my housemates leave for work (don’t ask why I sneak when no one else is home) and abscond with the last pitiful drops left in their pot.
I’ve also made a daily habit of going on Amazon and almost buying a new Mr. Black & Decker. I try to convince myself that it’s only $20 for a lifetime of caffeinated happiness, but then I look at my bank account and take an Advil to quell my raging caffeine headache instead.