Screwed up the coffee again this morning. It’s something I do at least once a month, but usually more. I think it’s because I set it up at eleven o’clock to go off the next morning and I’m not really at my best at bedtime.
The absolute worst is forgetting to set the carafe in place, which means waking up to runny grounds and brown water drowning everything on the counter and running onto the floor. I’ve done that three or four times, but in the grand scope of how often I screw it up, that counts as rare. My most frequent error is forgetting to add the water, which means waking up to nothing more than really hot glass. That’s followed by forgetting to hit the delay button, but at least then everything’s ready and my husband only has to hit the ON button.
This morning’s wasn’t really my fault, other than the fact I grabbed the first package of coffee filters I saw and they’re cheap, flimsy ones. It folded over, which allowed half the grounds to run down into the pot. Yum. My husband was putting on his coat to take Taz out when I stumbled into the kitchen, and he said, “You might want to grab a fork with your coffee this morning.”
His mood wasn’t improved any when I just fired up the Keurig and brewed myself a hot, ground-free mug of coffee in less time than it took for Taz to do his business, but he was leaving for work anyway, so whatever.
Screwed-up coffee’s not the best way to start a morning, though!