The sound of coffee brewing is really comforting to me.
It’s all good smells, burps and gurgles, and fulfilled promises.
If Folgers isn’t the best part of waking up, then morning breath mixed with Folgers to form a rancid, tan-colored, adult scum on your tongue is, because there is no best part of waking up.
Get a tongue scraper, Josie. That’s gross.
When I was a kid, I hated hot drinks. Hot apple cider, hot coffee, hot chocolate, hot tea, all of them. I was the weirdo at the ski lodge dumping ice into these drinks, and waiting for my soup to be at room temperature so I didn’t burn my mouth.
But I drink coffee now.
My grandmother used to put a pot of coffee on a tv tray beside her bed every night, and it would start brewing before the sun even came up. I can remember the smell of it, the sound of it percolating, and then the sounds of her pouring a cup and sipping it in bed.
She used to murmur to herself, take a sip, then exhale a satisfied, “Ahhhh” after every drink.
I can vividly picture myself adopting this same habit and bringing the coffeemaker into my room when I’m old. I’ll be the granny who can’t even be bothered to put in my teeth or leave the bed before I have my first cup. I’ll slurp and say ahhh after every sip just to be annoying.
Assuming I can remember who I am at that point, I will probably curse every morning I have to drag my old ass out of bed, then shrug and be happy that I still have my dragon breath to keep people away from me in the morning.
That’s quite a golden retirement you have planned for yourself. I assume it will be set in Florida, and you’ll play bridge and watch Cocoon a lot?
No, I have no idea how to play bridge. I just imagine I’ll be a grumpy, morning hating, elderly woman because people don’t change. And I’ll probably ask and answer my own questions because my husband will have turned off his hearing aids to avoid listening to me. Of course he’ll yell at me to quit mumbling or to speak up, and then wave a morning boner at me every day and tell me to talk into the microphone like I don’t know he turned the hearing aids off on purpose, and I assume morning wood jokes never die.
“Honey, you want some coffee?”
“Toffee? It’s too early for toffee, and it pulls my dentures out. You know that. Did you make the coffee?”
“I said coffee you old…nevermind. Yes, I made the coffee.”
“Fine, I’ll have toffee…quit nagging me, for the love of God. Did you notice this tent I pitched? It’s nice, right? I didn’t even take the blue one. Just for you, sweet cheeks! I know how much you miss camping.”
Come on, Folgers. Make that commercial.
Apparently, you don’t have to be that old to start rambling tangents. Back to my point.
Even though I know it would make my morning start a little easier, I always forget to make the coffee the night before. My coffee maker even has an alarm so I could set it to start brewing before I even wake up, but I don’t do that.
I’m like the pack a day smoker who buys ’grits one pack at a time every morning on the way to work and refuses to buy a carton because I think that’s too much commitment to the habit, and tomorrow could be the day I quit (‘grits=cigarettes, long story).
Maybe I won’t need four cups of coffee to feel human tomorrow.
Of course you will, silly.
This inevitably leads to an awkward dance between my husband and I in the morning where he’s standing next to the sink taking his vitamins and assorted pills before leaving for work, and I’m standing behind him tapping my foot, and resisting the urge to tell him to hurry up so I can get my damn caffeine before the baby wakes up.
Every morning I think, “Just make the coffee the night before. How hard is that?”
And every night I forget.
When I was younger, I never really understood adult fascination with coffee, and I used to roll my eyes at people who claimed that no one should talk to them before their first cup, but like so many other things I used to judge before I tried them, I get it now.
Here are some promises that coffee never fails to fulfill:
- I promise to make your morning suck a little less every day.
- I promise to stain your teeth and make your breath smell like an old boot. After you have a kid, I promise, you will not care.
- I promise I’m better than Activia when you’re feeling, “Not so regular.”
- I promise to always remind you to read more. Thanks B&N and Starbucks.
- I promise to make you judge people who go to Starbucks every day, but don’t own a coffee maker.
- I promise some day, you will run water through the same coffee grounds for a second pot, just like your mom does.
- I promise some day you will learn the correct ratio of coffee grounds to water.
- I promise some day your house will smell of vinegar after you google how to de-scale your coffee maker. The grossness of the word de-scale will not hinder your coffee consumption at all.
- I promise, some day you will make me after a heavy meal and it won’t seem like an old person thing to do. You will need me so you don’t fall immediately into a food coma. You will also start to believe that giving me to drunk people will really help them sober up.
- I promise that some day, you will find yourself in a spa with my grounds pressed to your upper thighs, praying that I really can cure cellulite, and wishing you were drinking a cup instead.
- I promise, some day you will accept your habit, and make me the night before.
If you’re still with me after this over-written, over-stated tribute to coffee, thanks!
Feel free to add your own promises if you are a coffee junkie too.
Am I the only one who continually forgets to make it the night before?