Left To My Own Devices: An Experiment Gone Wrong

Today marks the second round of my experiment, ‘Making Coffee At Home.

Up until this week I hadn’t had coffee on the premises for over a year. When dearest McRobe last stayed with me, she gave my little Ikea stove-top unit the kind of swan song most languishing appliances can only dream of. I even drank a little coffee at home myself in those days; I enjoyed someone else being in the flat and making the coffee–it made my place feel so exhilaratingly lived-in. After she left, I just didn’t have the heart to buy coffee for the flat anymore. I tend to have this idea that I don’t make good coffee, and so as a rule I just don’t make it.

The only exception is when I’m in Saint John where–I guess–I feel as though I make comparatively good coffee. As in, you can’t hunt down a decent cup in that town to save your life; and as for the offerings at home–mom straight-up admits she likes it weak and filtered, so I tend to punch above my weight when I’m back at the ranch.  Big fish in a little pond–you know the score.

But here in my Kiez I ain’t no big fish. There’s lots to choose from, and I have my regular No.1.

My strategy, you could say, has been to outsource my coffee. By deliberately keeping coffee off the premises, I have been forced to get up, get myself organised, properly groomed, and processed like some kind of prize pig about to trot up to the judge.
Like any self-respecting sow, I like my mud served stiff and black.

God, that sounds wrong.

Deirdre, where are you now? You used to walk up through the market beside me as we cradled our coffees–a thin line of defence against the affront of high school. A coffee in one hand, you’d catch my freudian slips with the other.

Oh Gyaaawd! Could it be that the bitter taste my own coffee leaves in my mouth comes not from my lack of skill, but rather from the want of one to share it with?
This is not the kind of thought to have before 10am. Neither is it the kind of thought I would have been capable of coming up with without coffee in my system. A picture is emerging. The results of the experiment are coming in: the sow, it seems, should not be left to wallow in the mud unattended! A second pig–a buddy-pig–should always be on hand to see that the sow does not become too introspective. Pigs do, after all, like to root around.

Having documented a whole investigative arc in the above paragraphs, I must now away to live out my remaining hours as the heroic martyr-scientist–maimed by my own experiment. Until the caffeine vacates my bloodstream once and for all, I shall be here; alone and grooming.

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2 Comments on “Left To My Own Devices: An Experiment Gone Wrong”

  1. Contributing Factor Says:

    I had coffee from Olives this morning. It was good.

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