Many of you will find this posting a bit of a “spoiled brat—unappreciative coffee snob gone sarcastic on her mate” kind of thing.
Nevertheless, I sincerely think I have a gripe here. My husband, when we first married, had found it in his heart to bring me coffee in bed when he is home. We had it down to a system. Since he is an early riser and sipped his coffee several hours before I would even stir, I would just open our bedroom door and await the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the delivery of a robust cup, dressed with light cream, a copy of the New York Times and usually a kiss on the forehead.
My partner called it a pre-emptive strike, since I would not actually describe my personality as chipper or focused without my morning coffee. Since I only drink Dunkin Donuts Coffee at home, (it is a New England thing) but NEVER at a Dunkin Donuts since it is too watery there, I have bought up to 20 pounds at a time—it's cheaper that way.
Well, a few years ago, coffee went up in price and my hubby decided that he was just fine with a lesser quality.W e checked a few brands and he settled on Chock Full of Nuts—you know that “heavenly coffee." (Target has the best price.) Therefore, we became a two coffee household. Thus, the addition of a second coffee canister on the counterand a second coffee shelf for the numerous pounds I buy on sale.
When we moved to Florida I was forced to make my own coffee Monday thru Friday. Not a pleasant sight, especially one foggy headed morning when I dropped the glass canister housing with my coffee and was forced to go back to bed, unable to focus enough to sweep up the glass. Hubby, very focused in the wee hours of the morning decided for all concerned, he would simply have his brand of coffee, which was brewed much weaker than mine was anyway and then rinse the pot, set up my coffee with a mug and the paper by its side.
That way, all I had to do was press the button and go back to bed until I heard a near symphony—that last coffee pot burp.
Coffee is VERY,VERY important to me. I drink it fresh with light cream not half-and-half. I prefer a Starbucks quad with cream for my afternoon coffee and the name decaf gives me a shudder. Please don't even talk to me about that new blond roast! Give me a tall bold black eye around 2:30 p.m., and I can make my way through the afternoon.
So, over the years, the coffee that my husband would make me started to become inconsistent. Sometimes too weak, sometimes too strong and occasionally,the kiss of death—the Chock Full of Nuts grounds were mixed in with the Dunkin Donuts. He has begged for forgiveness, promised to come up with a method and stay consistent.
The coffee was too weak yesterday for the last time. After 20 something years, I had enough of the broken coffee promises.
Now, we have two coffee pot: one with his canister of coffee and across the kitchen on the opposing counter and another with my coffee that I will set up every night before I go to bed. And yes, on the weekends I will still open the bedroom door and wait for the paper to be delivered to my bedside and wait for the coffee.
And with the first sip, I will have only myself to blame if it is not as good as the morning before.