Waterless Coffee

It's been a stressful time lately. I won't go into a lot of details, let's just say I have a lot of things I'm trying to manage and leave it at that. I know that this too shall pass, and it can't go by fast enough.

Over the last two weeks, the wheels have slowly come off of the cart. I've decided not to cook anything until after my dissertation draft is turned in on March 4. Everything I've attempted to cook has either burned to a crisp or not tasted quite right because I left out some seemingly minor, but highly significant, ingredient. The last time I cooked, I foolishly tried a new recipe. I managed to burn the chicken, smoke up the apartment and set off the smoke detectors. No one came to check on me, which didn't give me much comfort.

This morning, I started the coffee pot like I do every morning. A few minutes later, I heard a rather weak beeping sound. I thought, "The coffee is done early this morning." I went into the kitchen, picked up the carafe, and it was empty. The coffee pot had a strange smell about it, like the coffee had burned. I opened the contraption and learned that I didn't put any water in the machine the night before. So, it ground the beans, heated up, and sputtered to a stop. I like to think that it was sitting on the counter, bewildered in its attempt to help me. "I did everything I could," said my coffee pot, "but I just can't make coffee without water. I'm sorry."

I'm getting to the point where I'm almost afraid to leave the house. As long as all of this is contained in my four walls, at least I'm not endangering others.