domestic annoyances
Sep. 15th, 2019 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2QdTM2W
So. Our coffee canister is a glass jar, which one can see through at a glance. Occasionally we buy coffee in metal cans as well.
Every morning that i am home, I wake up first, so I go and make a batch of coffee in the drip machine, and then I go and sit and read until Dude wakes up and goes and pours us coffee and then comes to join me. It’s pleasant, it’s domestic, it’s routine, that’s what adults like.
When we moved offices at work and I had room to have my own coffee-pot, I brought one in, and I brought in grounds a little at a time at first, but at some point I bought a tin of grounds and left it there. Over the summer, though, I completely got out of any habit of brewing coffee there, so I brought the tin home. But it didn’t get used; we had the canister going, and kept refilling that, and so it was set aside.
Last week Dude, assembling the grocery list, asked if we needed coffee. I looked at the canister, which was like… five to seven days’ supply, probably. Well… but the tin was there, and I’d brought it home more than three-quarters full. It was probably time we used it, I judged, so I said no, we should be fine on what we have.
The fateful morning arrived: I used the last of the contents of the canister, just now. (I was right, it’s been eight days.) Time for the tin! I popped the lid off, and…
it has less than a teaspoon of grounds in it. Literally not enough to save; there is no reason I can see that it has not been thrown away. Here’s the thing: I verified that it was three-quarters full when I brought it home. So either someone broke into our house and used it, or Dude had been using it when I wasn’t home, in which case he knew fine fucking well it was empty, right, and that for some godforsaken reason he knew that and had left it there, and so why was he asking me about the contents of the clear canister and assuming I’d know that the opaque tin I don’t use had been depleted without being thrown away??? How does one commit such an atrocity and not recollect?????
Anyway. So, not enough to make a batch of drip, but at least I could use the moka pot that Dude uses when I’m not home, and make a pleasant little round of espressos, right? The bottom of the pot was sitting right there, so I scraped the drip basket into it, and it just about fits. Perfect.
I can’t find the top of the moka pot.
I haven’t used it in maybe a year, but I know that’s exclusively what Dude relies on when I am not home.
I have just awoken, and my problem-solving skills are not what they might be, and more importantly, my actual eyes take a lot longer to get going than they used to; I literally can’t focus that well. I have looked all over the kitchen and there is no sign of the top of that fucking espresso maker.
So I’m just going to go and sit on the porch and Dude can get his lazy ass out of bed at some point and possibly figure out what the hell’s going on, because I’ve left the half a moka pot sitting on the stove. (Oh, I didn’t put water in it. I wonder if he’ll figure that out. Well, our house is nine hundred square feet, he can probably find me.)
(Oh good he just came to find me and when I explained the situation with what I think is a pretty goddamned high level of restraint, honestly I should get a medal, he’s giving me this shell-shocked look-at-this-crazy-lady “okay” in a super mild voice reaction. No “oh shoot I’m sorry” or “oh weird gremlins must have used our kitchen” or any, IDK, recognition that he is a terrible person to have done this to me. But anyway it’s not my problem anymore.) (Oh yeah we don’t have any milk, I can’t even make the coffee au lait. Bah. I should have left yesterday for the farm.)
(Oh he’s getting dressed. No, I just need you to find the top of the fucking– augh!)
So. Our coffee canister is a glass jar, which one can see through at a glance. Occasionally we buy coffee in metal cans as well.
Every morning that i am home, I wake up first, so I go and make a batch of coffee in the drip machine, and then I go and sit and read until Dude wakes up and goes and pours us coffee and then comes to join me. It’s pleasant, it’s domestic, it’s routine, that’s what adults like.
When we moved offices at work and I had room to have my own coffee-pot, I brought one in, and I brought in grounds a little at a time at first, but at some point I bought a tin of grounds and left it there. Over the summer, though, I completely got out of any habit of brewing coffee there, so I brought the tin home. But it didn’t get used; we had the canister going, and kept refilling that, and so it was set aside.
Last week Dude, assembling the grocery list, asked if we needed coffee. I looked at the canister, which was like… five to seven days’ supply, probably. Well… but the tin was there, and I’d brought it home more than three-quarters full. It was probably time we used it, I judged, so I said no, we should be fine on what we have.
The fateful morning arrived: I used the last of the contents of the canister, just now. (I was right, it’s been eight days.) Time for the tin! I popped the lid off, and…
it has less than a teaspoon of grounds in it. Literally not enough to save; there is no reason I can see that it has not been thrown away. Here’s the thing: I verified that it was three-quarters full when I brought it home. So either someone broke into our house and used it, or Dude had been using it when I wasn’t home, in which case he knew fine fucking well it was empty, right, and that for some godforsaken reason he knew that and had left it there, and so why was he asking me about the contents of the clear canister and assuming I’d know that the opaque tin I don’t use had been depleted without being thrown away??? How does one commit such an atrocity and not recollect?????
Anyway. So, not enough to make a batch of drip, but at least I could use the moka pot that Dude uses when I’m not home, and make a pleasant little round of espressos, right? The bottom of the pot was sitting right there, so I scraped the drip basket into it, and it just about fits. Perfect.
I can’t find the top of the moka pot.
I haven’t used it in maybe a year, but I know that’s exclusively what Dude relies on when I am not home.
I have just awoken, and my problem-solving skills are not what they might be, and more importantly, my actual eyes take a lot longer to get going than they used to; I literally can’t focus that well. I have looked all over the kitchen and there is no sign of the top of that fucking espresso maker.
So I’m just going to go and sit on the porch and Dude can get his lazy ass out of bed at some point and possibly figure out what the hell’s going on, because I’ve left the half a moka pot sitting on the stove. (Oh, I didn’t put water in it. I wonder if he’ll figure that out. Well, our house is nine hundred square feet, he can probably find me.)
(Oh good he just came to find me and when I explained the situation with what I think is a pretty goddamned high level of restraint, honestly I should get a medal, he’s giving me this shell-shocked look-at-this-crazy-lady “okay” in a super mild voice reaction. No “oh shoot I’m sorry” or “oh weird gremlins must have used our kitchen” or any, IDK, recognition that he is a terrible person to have done this to me. But anyway it’s not my problem anymore.) (Oh yeah we don’t have any milk, I can’t even make the coffee au lait. Bah. I should have left yesterday for the farm.)
(Oh he’s getting dressed. No, I just need you to find the top of the fucking– augh!)
