So, coffeemakers.
My sister was in the shower, getting ready for her business breakfast meeting and it was our first work weekday in New York. The least I could do was snap on the light. After that I sat up and had a small thought involving coffee.
The night before I'd made a plan. Based on my experience with hotel coffeemakers, I knew I'd be useless trying to make coffee in the morning, so the night before I set up the coffee machine on the desk. I put in the water, slipping in the filter with the caffeinated coffee and moved the coffeemaker to the desk where I could plug the coffeemaker into the power bar. Perfect. It was the least I could do. After all, I was riding along on my sister's business trip. I was having a great time and it was all because of her.
So I got out of bed at 6 a.m. and I switched on the coffeemaker. Back in bed again, I picked up a half finished Pete Hamill novel and was soon deep in the 1930s world of downtown Manhattan. My sister was zipping up her computer bag and headed for the door when I smelled the coffee. I said, "I made you some coffee." She said, "No, I don't want any."
A few minutes later I thought, "oh, the coffee." A cup of that coffee would be nice. I went over to the coffeemaker. No coffee.
The machine was hot, the filter was soaked. Four clean cups were on the tray still in their wrappers.
Okay, so the night before I guess I didn't remember to put a cup under the place where the coffee would run out of the filter.
But where was the coffee? Except for the smell of coffee, there wasn't any sign of it - not a drop on the desk, not on the rug. It was a mystery.
And it was soon solved. Along with the cash and the maps and the chargers for the phones, there was a pair of soft exercise pants my sister had lent me to wear to the pool, on top of the desk. They were damp and smelled like coffee. By some miracle, they must have sopped up the mess. I put the pants on a glass table and went out to buy coffee. Then I did the rest of my day. It was great.
When I came back, I pulled the desk chair over to the easy chair by the window and put my feet up, careful not to muss my sister's business outfits that were draped over the back of the desk chair. She walked in a few hours later. I said, "How was your day?"
She said, "Look at my shirt. There's a spot. Right in the middle of you-know-where. A yellow shirt with a spot on it and I had a meeting with my boss today. How could I have packed a shirt with a spot on it?
I said, "Oh, that's terrible!" It wasn't a big spot, but you could see it. Well, especially there. And it wasn't typical of her to be so non-exacting. I said, "I guess you wore your jacket all day."
She said, "Yes, but how could I have packed a shirt with a spot on it? To meet with the boss? How was your day? Did you go to the pool?"
I said, "No." And then I remember there had been a sort of accident with the exercise pants she'd loaned me. They were on the glass table right beside me. I could smell the coffee as we were talking.
I was going to apologize for the state of the pants and explain about the coffee. I looked at the spot on her shirt again and I began to see that the spot was sort of coffee coloured. It seemed a pretty sure thing her shirt probably had been on the back of the chair with the other clothes in the morning when I switched on the coffee maker.
Hmmm coffeemakers.
