Our coffee machine died a few weeks ago. It was our first co-habiting appliance, bought in 2000 - it had a pretty good run.
Over the years, as our coffee appreciation grew, we'd started using a stove-top
Bialetti to make the brew, and kept the great black behemoth of a coffee machine out purely to steam and froth milk.
Then it packed up and we were without The Foam. This was a BFP (big farking problem).
And boy, did it open a can of worms.
In the last few weeks I kid you not when I say we've spent more time talking about coffee, coffee machines, how to get the best head (shut it), beans v ground, latte art etc, than anything else.
You Tube clips have been watched, product reviews have been read. Emails have been sent, experts consulted, machines have been bought and returned, arguments have been had and coffee-drinking habits have changed significantly - all this in pursuit of the perfect cup of home-brewed coffee.
Because it seems this is the most important thing happening in our lives right now.
This afternoon, when I called Husbandguy from the shops to consult (yet again) about which type of coffee I should buy I commented (yet again) on the ridiculous amount of time and energy we were putting into this. Never mind that we're facing A MAJOR MOVE in 10 days time.
His response? Some people have religion to get them through stressful times. Some smoke, some do crosswords, some knit and some game.
We, it seems, have decided to deal with this particularly monumental moment in our lives by immersing ourselves in the dark brew.
Besides, we wouldn't be sleeping well now anyway right?
Blink. Blink.
