Monday, November 05, 2007

Consolation & Coffee Monday

Woke up this morning, discovered it was Monday (dammit), remembered all the things I should/could/would have done over the weekend, had I not been busy ignoring those things and pretending I wasn't in law school, laid on back and fought feelings of dread and rising panic.

It was not a good start to the day.

On mornings like this, it is my policy to fling myself out of bed as quickly as possible, and shuffle off to stick my head in the freezer.

This unorthodox wakeup call has a number of purposes:
1. It will, in fact, wake you up as a quickly as a cold bucket of water (that old cartoon favorite), but with less mess.
2. It is a healthy reminder that it could, in fact, be colder outside.
3. It is a healthy reminder that life could, in fact, be worse (see: actually being the chicken breasts, not having ice cream to eat for breakfast)
4. My freezer is full of magic, and when I open it, everything is ok again.

I have discovered that having a few moments alone in the kitchen to enjoy the quiet of the morning, fill up a tea kettle, and pretend I'm capable of handling the day with some semblance of grace and poise really makes the difference between getting through life with a degree of benevolence, or downright disgruntled malice.

Woe betide the child who intercepts me on a no-time-for-indulgence morning.

This morning was ugly. Now, from the other side of my french press and some very indulgent coffee fixings, Monday doesn't look so bad.

A brief word on the French Press, and why you should go get one right now:
After years of mixing & matching, I woke up with a steadfast belief in the superiority of the french press over nearly any other method of coffee brewing. At the risk of waxing poetic, good, press brewed coffee might be the most beautiful part of my fall mornings. Aside from being extremely minimalist visually (rewarding in a kitchen the size of a Miata's trunk), it is exceptionally easy to clean, still gives off the aroma of fresh grounds, and removes the risk of nasty, burned coffee you might get in a standard automatic coffee maker.

There's a certain amount of simplistic joy derived from brewing your own coffee. In terms of labor, it is not much more difficult than the standard coffee maker, but creates a vastly improved cup. Every morning, it allows you to do something special and self indulgent for yourself, without significant cost. Also, posing as a high-minded aficionado does wonders for one's ability to scowl disapprovingly on the unwashed masses.

This, naturally, is a high point for me.


In brief: You deserve good coffee. Good coffee deserves good brewing. This will lead to good things in your world & mine.

Yum.


Lucky for TeeBall The Little Leaguer and good old DeadWeight that I've had my cup this morning: devilish wit is so much easier for them to handle than active hatred.

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All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson