Saturday, November 12, 2005

My Broken Coffee Maker

The bastard died on me nearly two weeks ago.

I was devastated. Between work, travel, and my need to research to find the finest machine out there, it took me about a week to order it on-line. It shipped yesterday.

In the meantime, I started to get my coffee each morning at the local joint. It added 10 minutes to my morning routine, and I wasn't happy about it.

But the place is cozy, friendly, and owned by a youngish Irish guy and his wife. One or the other is always there, along with one of several pierced and inked twentysomethings. They're always playing some cool music (alt-indie-folk stuff), local artists decorate the walls, the pastries are made by their grandmotherly next-door neighbor, and the coffee is pretty damn good.

I told Ronan (the owner) this morning about my coffee machine, and that it should arrive Monday or Tuesday. Oh, damn, he said

No worry, I told him. I'll see you Wednesday.


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