The Confessions. Mine, Not Augustine’s

The Confessions. Mine, Not Augustine’s January 20, 2006

I’d like to think that once in awhile there are small nuggets of spiritual profundity that can be mined from these ramblings. I am not trying to be a groundbreaking theologian along the lines of St. Augustine, but an occasional foray into some expression of spiritual depth would be nice.

This is not one of those moments.

This is an entry about real confessions . . . the kind of revelations about yourself that you could work to hide from the world if you really tried.

Here I reveal two, to be exact.

Okay, three. Uhhhh, four.

First, anybody who knows me well (okay, really, anybody who barely knows me at all) knows that I am quite a committed coffee drinker. I am starting to think that this habit of mine could be classified as an illness if we wanted to be technical about it.

It is true that I spend more time at the Starbucks on 7th and G NW than I do in my office, but that is not just because I’m a supremely hip urban pastor (pause to laugh) who is willing to go anywhere and do anything for the sake of the gospel.

No, I pretty much hang out there because I really like to drink coffee.

And, those of you who know I am unlikely to do anything in moderation will easily be able to surmise that I drink a lot of coffee.

I am now to the stage in my personal coffee consumption that I am afraid NOT to drink it, as the headache I will undoubtedly have is not something I look forward to.

I am not necessarily proud of this fact, but, then again, I suppose there are worse habits to have.

This fact lays the groundwork for the next confession, which is that I purchased my current coffee maker (in use every single day, programmed to go off at 6:05 a.m., carefully set up right before I go to bed) because I thought it looked cool on the shelf at Target.

Yes, I am ashamed to admit that I purchased this particular coffee maker for the sole reason that I thought its presence on my kitchen counter would elevate my level of personal coolness (admittedly a very real need).

I am ashamed to admit this because I am the very one who will regularly admonish my children to be sure to appreciate things and people for what they truly are . . . not just what they look like.

Sometimes, of course, choosing something (or someone) soley on the basis of its looks works fine. There are some things and some people who look totally cool and, at the same time, ARE totally cool (I hate those kinds of people–oh! that would be confession number three . . . ). Nevertheless, such is not the case with my Mr. Coffee 12-Cup Thermal Carafe Coffee Maker.

The sad truth about this coffee maker is that it is a certifiably, totally objectively horrible coffee maker.

For one thing, the removable water canister leaks, so I have to take it out, fill it up and run–run–from the sink to the coffee maker then slam it into place before all the water drips out. And, very often during brewing, the basket holding the coffee grounds pops out of place for no reason that I can discover. When this happens and there is no person around to pop it back in, the water cannot flow through the grounds into the pot. What happens instead is that my entire kitchen counter (and often the floor) is baptized with coffee and grounds. And, worse, there is no coffee ready for me when I wake up. To add further insult to these two very injurious facts about my coffee maker, the thermal carafe is not exactly thermal in the way I think of thermal (Thermal underwear, for example? Am I wrong to make these assumptions?). In other words, the coffee gets cold about 20 minutes after it has brewed.


As a result of this terrible situation in which I find myself I can often be observed (as I was last night) complaining about my coffee maker and sometimes (though very rarely) saying bad words while I am running from the sink to the counter with the water canister.

My loving husband helpfully pointed out last night (while this recurring scene was happening yet again) that I might possibly consider ending my relationship with this coffee maker and going to the store and purchasing a new coffee maker . . . ?

With a sigh I tried to communicate to him the complexities of this situation. See, if I were to purchase a new coffee maker I would never want make the same mistake again–that is, buying one just because it looks cool. And, to make sure I do not fall into this trap I would have to do some pretty extensive consumer research on coffee makers, I explained patiently. And (and this is where I unwittingly found myself confessing to yet another personal flaw–this makes 4, for those of you who are counting), to do such research takes time, you see . . . time I would rather spend doing other things.

Things like . . . complaining about what a terrible coffee maker I have.
If you read this, feel compassion for my dilemma, and can vouch for an excellent, programmable coffee maker . . . or if you just would like to join me in confessing . . . feel free to comment.
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