How many times can you reheat a cup of coffee before it becomes just a really cute mug of toxic brown goo? I ask because I never really get to finish a cup without reheating at least 5 times and that’s kinda sick, no?
The moment I sit down to take that first sip is a downright intimate experience. “Come here, you sweet thing. I’ve waited all night for this.” And then no matter what state of perfect peace things are in just minutes before, the moment I go to take that first precious taste, it’s as if my entire household senses it and decides to come alive. Every time! Welp, from the sound of that screeching in the other room, the baby needs to eat or someone’s butt needs to be wiped or a spill needs to be cleaned all of a sudden right this second. Better deal or heads are gonna roll! So its back to the microwave.
Then after getting sidetracked with watching some Beat Bobby Flay or Pioneer Woman (#priorities), dealing with a few more rounds of poops (#regular), it’s already time to pick up Maddie from school (#commoncore) and I still haven’t finished that cup I made at 8am. I’m not even exaggerating here!
Not to mention, we don’t have an actual coffee maker or a Keurig or anything normal like that. We have this aeropress thingamagig Justin bought because he enjoys buying terrible things that confuse the average human being. It probably takes about the same amount of time as brewing a pot of coffee, but it only makes one serving. And the process is not exactly convenient nor does it invigorate.
Ahh, just look at it. It has hipster-like appeal, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled, Susie. When you don’t have a handsome flannel-wearing, bearded man making one for you, it’s downright medieval torture first thing in the morning. Funny thing, now that I mention it, I do have one of those handsome flannel-wearing bearded men, so why am I complaining again? Oh right, I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. brb, I left it in the microwave.
And on that note…