So I woke up this morning with a hankering for an iced hazelnut coffee. Luckily for me, I had hazelnut coffee in my freezer so I decided I would brew a big ol' full pot of coffee, which I would then transfer into a handy-dandy glass pitcher and keep it in my fridge to enjoy iced coffee throughout the week. I am not fancy about my coffee, nor am I snobbish about its freshness, to be sure. I just want caffeine, preferably with fake sugar and fiber-enriched soy milk. Now, I hadn't made coffee in my coffeemaker for many, many months. Ever since my stummy became sick, I sort of don't drink so much coffee, and when I do, it's usually iced and purchased en route to work or during work or some such. When I caffienate in the morning, my drug of choice is Yerba Mate because it doesn't really frak with my stummy and it also provides a pleasant pick-me-up.
But! This morning was not like all other mornings. I poured the water tank full of water from my Pur (I'm a Pur girl, not a Brita girl) pitcher and scooped the coffee into the coffee filter and hit the "on" button and then went on my merry way to take a shower and shave my legs and exfoliate and do all the things that ladies do in the shower while listening to 101.1 CBS FM in the mornings. While I was showering, I heard a tremendous noise, but there are almost always loud noises in the morning in and around my building, since I live above a subway and on a very busy thoroughfare and there are people who live near me who apparently torture their children during the day (judging by the sounds of it) and they are also re-paving the streets so there's lots of heavy machinery making lots of rumblings all the time.
So I wrapped myself in a towel and padded through the living room to get some coffee before I got dressed and ... ruh-roh. The kitchen looked like a scene from Apocalypse Now, if Apocalypse Now took place in a white kitchen in which an entire pot full of hazelnut coffee had apparently exploded. It was a hazelnut disaster. The walls were spattered, and there were 12 cups of coffee dripping down the fridge and the pantry, all over my (white) kitchen table and my (white) kitchen counters and my (white) appliances. And there was broken glass everywhere (people pissing on the stairs, you know they just don't care) (not really, I was just making a Grandmaster Flash reference for you) so I put on my flipflops and grabbed a roll of paper towels and three different spray cleaners and I cleaned the kitchen and coated myself in a fine sheen of hazelnut coffee and dyed my towel hazelnut coffee colored. So I took another shower.
I can only imagine there was some sort of crack or something in the coffeepot, and since I haven't made coffee in months and months and months, I didn't notice. Note to self: always check for cracks and/or explosives in one's coffeepot before brewing 12 cups of hazelnut coffee!
And then I got dressed and put my hair into pigtails and put on some heels and realized I should really take out the trash, because my trash can was, by now, filled with an entire roll of hazelnut-coffee-soaked paper towels. So I grabbed my gym bag and my purse and pulled the trash bag out of the trash can and set off down the stairs. And halfway down, I slipped and fell down a full flight of stairs and landed on my butt. And somehow when I slipped and fell I managed to toss the trash bag up into the air, and I watched it tumble down, in slow motion, spilling its contents all over the stairs and all over me.
So I went back to my apartment, got another roll of paper towels (I buy them in bulk) and cleaned up the trash from the stairs, getting rotting vegetable matter all over me in the process. So then I had to go upstairs and take another shower. And put on fresh clothes. And put my hair back into pigtails.
It was really tremendously amazing.
And now my butt is bruised and hurts like a motherfrakker.