Trying to motivate myself on a stormy Monday after a blissfully over-caffeinated Sunday turned out to be more than I could easily handle today.
I was up late last night and fully wired from — what was it, five? — five cups of coffee yesterday, which is five more than my usual intake. I love the stuff, even though I don't make it particularly well. And I had some stomach acid problems several months ago that convinced me to put away the grinder and the Braun twelve-cup brewer, and get my caffeine from Mountain Dew and Dr Pepper. Diet, of course.
Five large mugs of coffee, four of them made by me, from memory. I never did have the knack, and I couldn't remember how many scoops of beans and how many cups of water made the best combination. Which wasn't that good anyway, but still, better than what I ended up with this time out. It must have been moderately potable, at least, because I kept drinking it until it was gone.
Maybe I just didn't want to waste it. The well water's free here, if slightly brackish in its unfiltered state, but coffee beans couldn't cost much more if they were hand-picked by Colombian virgins, then flown to France and personally roasted by Catherine Deneuve. Picture that.
When I managed the shoe store, I had a person on staff to make the coffee. Oh, he was good with the customers, too, but his value to me, and therefore to the store, was enhanced by having the magic touch with the electric drip coffeemaker. On the night before his day off, he would make up a baggie containing the precise amount of ground beans for the next day's brewing. It was up to me to measure out the water, but I was up to the task.
How I wish he were here today, although I did a little better than yesterday. I used all decaf beans, to try to help myself de-buzz. It seems to be working. I fell asleep in my chair during the third cup.