Percolating Betrayal

"I usually take mine with a little cream and sand ...but not too much sand."

“I usually take mine with a little cream and sand …but not too much sand.”

I’m not sure if I ever mentioned it, but my dear companion, Mr. Coffee, died suddenly a while back.

Exactly. If that can happen here, it can happen in you house too.

I’ll let you process your shock quietly before we move on.


Now then, like most large, coffee-related changes in my life, it was tough to grapple with. Since kicking cigarettes (No applause, please. Every day is a day I try desperately not to spark a rolled up Post-it note with “Camel” scrawled on it simply to get a hint of the experience), coffee has been the Universe’s way of feeding my fix. So, a reliable coffee machine is most importante to my existence.

Enter, Black and Decker.


Well, I’ve been asked that question many times, and I, like I say, time and time again, Keurigs make one cup at a time. I, on the other hand, prefer to make a gallon of coffee I can pour steadily into my blood stream all morning, and use the extra to bathe in, if the mood hits me.

Hold on. I need more coffee. Be right back.

See how fast that was? Roughly a seven second turn around time to get back here. Can’t get that with a Keurig.

So, like I was saying, Black and Decker. Sounds like 1850’s code for being punched in the face, but in modern day, it means sweet, sweet coffee.

When Husband brought the white devil home, it looked nothing like Mr. Coffee. No suave voice. No advice to start my morning. No coffee ring stain around the bottom to kind of make it look like he was smiling. But, it made coffee.

Decent coffee. Coffee that was hot and made me not hate the sun.

After a while, I came to have a respect for the new giver of caffeine water, and started looking forward to brandishing my cup, trying not to inwardly squeal, and making casual yet business appropriate conversation. “Looks like you made six cups today. Good to have you aboard. I’ll take all of them. By the way, that’s a great tie.”

The betrayal didn’t happen until this morning.

For, just as I was about to pile high the coffee grounds, I saw it.

“Black and Decker, is that a fly in the water?”

No answer.

“Because, if it is, I’m appalled. Mainly because this shows you’re holding some sort of grudge …and also because I’ve been drinking fly-infused coffee for an unspecified amount of time.”

I’m not going to fire him. The thought of training a replacement exhausts me.

But it does kind of make me want to get a Keurig.

Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com, and is the author of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle. You can reach her at paigekellerman@gmail.com.

She also hides out on Twitter and Facebook.

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