Evil Coffee Maker Attacks Inn Keeper

Memorial weekend was two thirds over. We got up early on Monday morning with our full house still snoozing peacefully. Richard reached into the fridge and grabbed the milk by the lid and as he pulled it out the whole carton fell to the floor covering his shoes, legs and the six feet around him in creamy Half and Half (milk and cream). Someone – probably me had not screwed on the top properly.
I was in the middle of concocting granola muffins. Richard went downstairs to change and I got the floor wiped up as I mused over the saying “Its no use crying over spilled milk.”

An hour later the house was waking up and there was a trail of sleepy heads wandering to the Keurig machine for their first beverage of the day. Richard walked into the breakfast room to discover an ominous queue. The whole machine had packed up due to some blockage in the boiling water outlet. He hurried to the kitchen with the offending machine to clean it out and rinse some vinegar through, meanwhile, we filled up the Mr. Coffee (12 cup) in the kitchen to keep the coffee drinkers mollified.

I kept on cooking.

Richard turned on the large coffee urn (30 cups) ready for the breakfast rush at 8.30am and as he did sparks blew out of the electric socket and there was a frightening smell of burning. Just as he was rushing back into the kitchen with the urn in his arms, the Mr. Coffee maker spilled over and there were coffee grounds all over the table and floor. Mr. Coffee doesn't like making twelve cups of coffee all at once on Memorial Day and had a hissy fit. We had three useless coffee makers and twenty guests pawing the ground in the breakfast room. I kept on cooking and Richard flew around the kitchen in a whirl of coffee grounds, white vinegar and screw drivers.

We survived the morning. Mr. Coffee eventually supplied enough to keep everyone coffeed up (six cups at a time). The loose wire in the urn was located and tightened up and the Keurig got descaled and cleaned out.

After everyone had been fed and left the breakfast room, we were cleaning up the mornings detritus and I reached for Mr. Coffee’s glass carafe with a soapy hand. The bloody thing slipped from my fingers and crashed into the sink leaving it with a large crack in the side. It sort of rounded up the morning in a surprisingly satisfying way. All for one and one for all. The Circle of Life and all that.