I awoke at six o’clock this morning with my son’s feverish toes digging into my back, and his head feeling hot enough to fry up some breakfast. It has only been a month since my family was rid of the dreaded viral cold/bacterial ear infection illness. That virus held us in a death-grip for weeks and weeks. It’s six am and I can’t sleep because I’m having flashbacks of force-feeding two kids amoxicillin twice a day for ten days.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed at eight o’clock I settled my little guy on the couch with a sheet, his pillow and a fuzzy blanket, put on a video and then plodded into the kitchen to make the coffee that I would need to get me through my day. I ground up some nice Mexican Select Green Mountain Coffee and poured cold filtered water into the reservoir; I plugged in the pot and toggled the switch into the “on” position. No red light. No sounds of percolation. Turned it off; turned it back on. And off. And on.
I suppose there is no good time for a coffee pot to break, but today seemed a particularly bad choice. The thing is only 1 ½ years old. In the six years that we’ve been married we’ve had to replace a VCR and our microwave. Family members have microwaves that have been around since the dawn of time and coffee pots that are older than me and still operate. They just don’t make things like they used to.
My husband was able to convince the mutinous coffee pot to brew ten cups, but I have a desperate hunch that it won’t be made to work again. In the meantime I suppose I shall have to drink twice as much tea to sustain me as I nurse my poor sick toddler back to health. All I can do is hope and pray that this time around the period of illness will be short lived and milder, and that it won’t ravage the whole family. If I ignore the tickle in my throat and wash my hands every two-point-five seconds maybe it’ll go away.
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