Before the Crankee Yankee and I married, I told him that I loved waking up to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. In fact, that is the first thing I want when I get up; a steaming cup of fresh coffee. Since he is usually up before I am, it’s a great deal for me.
However, nearly 15 years of marriage later, I find, more often than not, that the leftover coffee from the day before is the general bill of fare in the morning. Maybe it’s just my spoiled brat thinking, but it never tastes good.
From the Crankee Yankee’s point of view, it’s thrifty. Why make another pot when there is (in his mind anyway) perfectly good coffee left in the pot? But to me, it taste like motor oil….OLD motor oil.
It could all be in my mind; perhaps there’s nothing wrong with “used” coffee. It just tastes stale and somehow flat to me. This means that one of us has to give in and make a new pot of coffee.
We do own a Keurig coffee maker which the Crankee Yankee won in a raffle for a $10 ticket. I thought, ‘fabulous! This ends the leftover sludge in the morning; each of us can have as many cups of fresh coffee as we like, and as many flavors as we like!’
Sadly, that did not work out. Why? Because the Crankee Yankee doesn’t like to buy the coffee pods, claiming that they are too expensive.
I said, “Are you kidding?!? You won a Keurig coffee maker for $10 when they sell for nearly $100—we can afford coffee pods!” He grudgingly agreed, so we went out to buy some pods, and this happened:
Instead of getting a few different flavors to try (personally I wanted egg nog, coconut, and French vanilla), we ended up with a small pack of hazelnut pods. I tried to explain that the whole idea of having a Keurig is that you can have a whole selection of coffees to choose from.
But what are you going to do? The man is thrifty, and he is good with money. This is a classic case of the old saying, “take the bitter with the sweet.” And boy—is that old coffee bitter! So, when I just can’t drink any more sour old coffee, I ninja into the kitchen before I go to bed and quietly pour out most of that morning’s coffee.
It’s all part of my secret evil plan. Don’t tell the Crankee Yankee.