4:27 AM – More like it
I gave up coffee cold turkey last Spring. Hurt my belly. Not being a doctor, I think it was the acid. All that gassy acid that burps from fresh grinds when you slowly pour hot water into a French press, that stuff will kill you. And it nearly killed me. So I gave up the coffee and upped my beer consumption.
At the end of summer I bought the wife one of those new fangled Keurig deals that’s all the rage with white people. It’s the perfect way to spend more money for a product we were already getting just fine anyway, only this time it’s individualized and cute. Very American. Dogs pee on bushes, we Keurig our coffee. It’s how you know whose is whose. And at 50 cents a cup, there’s no wasting what’s whose.
Well, so, these are the arguments against the Keurig. Truth be told, we love the damn thing. The only thing wasted are those little plastic cup dealies. And for a season we were drinking less coffee. I was drinking none until the Keurig introduced me to single cup brewing. And then I had the obligatory cup a day. Then two. Then three. Last week, now that I’ve laid down the beer bottle, I’m up to five or six Keurig cups a day: half a box! Drinking in excess. Very American.
So over the weekend we bought a $10 Kitchen Chef coffee maker at the Target. Bought some Starbucks Tribute blend with it. Bought some little bleached filters that will surely give me cancer (again). Brewed our first pot yesterday, and it afforded me two cups in the morning, me and wife both a travel mug a-piece, and then still half a luke wilson warm pot when we arrived home. Coffee from 5 AM to 8 PM. It’s a wonder I slept at all. It’s a wonder I woke at 4:18 this morning after only two snooze hits.
— Two snooze hits after a dream of being a student again in a history class with Chadverb Pollock and Rix White. Daniel Tosh Point Oh was our substitute teacher. He wore neon pus green Reebok hightops and sat in a student desk at the front. He was our teacher for the day but he kept talking on a pink landline, left knee bouncing nervously under the desk. I heckled him loudly before turning back to pictures of horticulture on Rix’s iPhone. I think we were looking at succulents. I heckled Daniel Tosh Point Oh by laughing at him when he grabbed the landline. I heckled him, and this led others to heckle him, and I thought inside my dream, “My God, what am I doing? I’m a teacher! And now I’m behaving like a monster!” A girl in front of me turned back and said, “Good one!” And Chadverb said, “He didn’t say anything, burnt bulb. He’s just laughing.” And she made a sad face before turning back to her misery. And that’s when I realized that Chadverb and Rix and I had become The Plastics. And that’s when Daniel Tosh Point Oh walked through the room and said, “I’ve been talking to your teacher, Miss Dunham, because I can’t get the gee-dee video equipment to work. She wanted you to watch her film about furniture but it’s not going to work. And since we don’t want to waste your time, class is cancelled.” When he said “don’t want to waste your time” Daniel Tosh Point Oh motioned at me. In my dreams, I’m the prick I most want to administratively drop from my class. —
The truth is that I haven’t used a good old fashion drip coffee maker in ages. And the other truth is that I shuffle through my addictions like a deck of cards. The Jack of Clubs always rolls back around. I cold-turkeyed the coffee last Spring, and I’m on it again. This morning I was awkward and placed the filter directly into the machine without first putting in the brew-basket, which I had removed to wash the night before. And I could see little flecks of flavor crystals falling into the bottom of my pot. No worries, crisis has been averted. A full pot simmers on the far side of the counter by the cutlery. Cup number two waits by my elbow for my lips and cerebral neurons to possess its possibilities like a bush in the park awaiting my pug-dog.
I love the autonomy of morning. Quiet. Caffeinated. Open to suggestion and none at all. A full pot of coffee parsed quaintly into a white mug – equal parts mine and excessive and literally gut-wrenchingly cute. My kind of American.