My coffee pot is dying. Well, maybe it’s not technically dying, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to kill it, which will have the same end result. I have diagnosed the issue, but I don’t think it can be fixed. How do you treat a coffee maker for PMS? I’m fairly certain that’s what’s wrong with it because it seems to be retaining water, and it punched the toaster oven for saying the new filters make it look fat.
I’ve never had this happen before, and we’ve been through a lot of coffee pots. I put in 3 scoops of coffee and 5 cups of water, which should result in a nice, strong, wake-me-up pot of coffee. What I get is 6 cups of weak, watery mess that couldn’t jump start a Matchbox car. Where is the extra water coming from?
My theory is that it isn’t pushing all the water through every time, and sometimes it pees out the extra. The question is how to fix it. I doubt that we can.
It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s Christmas, right? We could go to the coffee maker store and buy ourselves a nice, beautiful, new coffee pot as a gift to one another. Sounds simple, no? No. It’s going to take awhile before my sweet husband will be able to let go. Right now, we’re navigating the five stages of grief.
Denial – There’s nothing wrong with the coffee pot. We’re simply putting in more water than we think we are. Never mind that I have used the same measuring device twice a day for two years.
Anger– I think the anger is directed more at me than the fates for even suggesting that the Krups may be on its last legs. And my anger is aimed at husband for being so attached to this particular stupid coffee maker. I don’t care about the Krups, just gimme the joe. Even if you have to filter it through a sock.
Bargaining– This is where we’re currently setting up camp. “If we just add a little more coffee to the brew, it will be okay!” Let’s just forget for a moment that I am already adding 20% more coffee than is recommended. And that it costs $15 a pound.
Depression– I think we can rename this one “sleepiness,” and it’s coming soon. When we’re used to about a billion micro-grams of caffeine a day and we’ve been reduced to drinking dishwater, the nap-attacks are just around the corner.
Acceptance- I wish I could say that with this stage would come a visit to a department store to purchase a new pot. Instead, we’ll start the thrift store prowl in the hopes of finding a better coffee pot than we could ever afford to purchase new.
Wake me in about a month.