My lack of talent in the kitchen extends beyond the stovetop, over the counter, all the way to the coffee machine. I make coffee that is not good.
At work we have
Makes a single cup of perfect coffee at a time. I used to use it now and again, in a pinch, but in the last week, the Keurig and I have become besties. (For some reason, I’ve been acting like a child and refusing to get in bed at a reasonable hour, which has made over-caffeination a necessity.)
And now I waaaaaaaaaant one.
Back in January, some girlfriends and I took a road trip up to my childhood home, and we were watching Violet and Redford frolic along the creek. (Stay with me; I’m going to bring it back around to coffee.) When a raft of ducks came around the bend into view, Violet made a beeline at them, charging without a moment’s hesitation into the water. “DUCKS!”
Redford ran at the water fowl, but when his toesies got wet, he backed out and sprinted, frustrated, back and forth along the bank. He always does that. Wants to get at them varmints so bad, but does not enjoy getting wet. I can’t remember who it was, but one of us said, “DUCKS!… but water.” And now we use that phrase when we want something real, real bad, but there’s another thing deterring us.
That is, KEURIG YUMMY PERFECT COFFEE! But all that plastic.
I consider myself a pretty ecologically conscious person. I recycle everything I’m allowed to. I drive a fuel-efficient car. I catch the first gallon of cold water from the shower in a pitcher to water my plants and fill the dogs’ bowls. If it’s yellow, I let it mellow.
But every time you use a “K cup”, you stab Mother Earth in the ovaries.
And I just don’t know if I can be that guy.
Now is when some of you point out that they make
But you’re forgetting that I HAVE A PRETERNATURAL ABILITY TO FUCK UP ALL THINGS KITCHEN-RELATED. That reusable filter requires filling, and despite the fact that I have a brain and measuring spoons, I promise, I WILL FUCK IT UP.
Those K cups are so very, very delicious and perfect.
Ducks, but water.