Daniel Abbey

I seriously love our new coffee machine.

My wife and I recently bought a Braun Coffee Maker so we could start consuming a huge cask of ground coffee sent by my mother-in-law from the US. We didn’t want to let the coffee go to waste and had always wanted to ditch instant coffee anyway. So we invested in a simple unit and began brewing.

So far, so addicted. I’ve always enjoyed coffee but to now wake up to the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee hanging in the clear morning air, well it’s pure joy.

To be able to warm the house with a pot of coffee in the afternoon while the world outside endures a cold and relentless downpour is also a real treat.

Reading a good book over a swirling mug of steaming coffee is further proof we made a decent and crucial investment.

I’m loving every minute.

I’m also wary of the shakes.

Not that my increased coffee intake has suddenly turned me into a sunken-eyed, trembling madman (homeschooling my son takes care of that). It’s just that whenever I amplify my flirtations with coffee I always undergo a heightened sense of awareness that seriously impedes my ability to function like a normal human being.

In other words, coffee plays on my nerves.

I can remember several occasions when this hasn’t been a good thing.

One was when I was shaving.

I was at the kitchen sink and had laid aside a small stand mirror to rinse my razor. Now anyone who knows me is aware that I abhor rats and anything else that crawls rapidly and without remorse. You’ll also know that I once lived in a house that had a serious rat and cockroach problem.

I was at the sink when I saw some quick movement in the mirror, something that resembled a lumbering rodent headed in my direction.

Naturally, I freaked. After a few seconds flailing about the kitchen like a donkey having a spasm, I realized that the “rodent” in the mirror was merely a quick reflection of my arm.

How sad.

My current caffeine intake, although elevated, has so far produced little in the way of similarly erratic behavior. But I do feel it’s fast approaching a level where paranoia is a virtue and regular gesticulation is the mark of a true coffee hero.

I’m sort of code yellow at the moment, approaching code red, if you know what I mean. I’m more prone to fiendish outbursts whenever my son jumps out from behind me, more liable to type a hundred mistakes a minute when speed typing (or whatever you call rapid typing with four fingers while salivating over the keyboard).

I don’t want to regulate my coffee, although that’s probably the best thing to do at this point.

It’s a good thing there are no rodents where I now live.