
A sad, sad thing happened at my house yesterday morning. My beloved coffeemaker brewed its last, and then died. It was so odd how it happened, so unexpected. It seemed fine, right till the very end. The red light stayed lit, indicating the unit was ON. But when I went to pour my third cup of coffee (yes, my third cup -- What, exactly, do you think fuels this whole operation?), I found that there was no heat still being generated by the unit. That's right -- its burner and the contents of the carafe had started getting cold already. Out of respect, I turned the power button to the OFF position.
But then, I realized I wasn't ready to let it go yet -- that maybe I hadn't tried everything to save it! So, I unplugged the machine, and then plugged it back in and switched it ON again, to see if that would give it the jolt it needed to once more make a fresh pot. But alas! 'Twas not to be. It was time to say goodbye.
It was a good coffeemaker. I bought it at a hardware store in Vancouver in the spring of 2004, my first semester there. It helped get me out of bed in the morning and not be (too) late to these 8:30 classes. And it saw me through many late nights of reading for classes like Anglican History and Theology, and writing papers that compared and contrasted the scholarly takes on the etiology, polemical content, and hagiographical style of various New Testament books. (You can understand, then, my reliance on this marvelous machine.)
I even shipped it back to the States when I returned here, where it has continued to faithfully brew java for me hundreds of times. It had no major bells or whistles such as a start timer, a thermally insulated carafe, or even, in its latter months, an automatic shut-off feature. But still -- I will miss its little red glowing light, its practical flat-bottom brew basket, and handy full-sized glass carafe; its sweet, sputtering brewing sounds, and its convenient water level indicator. Goodbye, Black & Decker SmartBrew. May you find your reward in the great Coffee Shop in the Sky.
2 comments:
I would just like to say thank you to Jenna, who gave me a sympathy card -- yes, a sympathy card -- upon the passing of my coffeemaker. "I too will miss it and will ever cherish the many many fond memories," she writes.
*sniff*
I'm touched. Thank you. (I smile bravely.)
I would like to extend my most sincere condolences as well. I know how much it meant to you. I know it will not be easily replaced. (well, actually I don't know that...sometimes Williams Sonoma has GREAT sales...)
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