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20 november 2000

on desperation

Well, here it is Monday morning, and I'm sitting in a very nice Holiday Inn on yet another business trip. Which, of course, means that I need to brew some coffee in the Lilliputian in-room coffeemaker on the sink. I was worried at first as I rifled through the coffee supplies -- only decaf? No! I finally located the regular stuff, and gurgling/bloobling is underway.

Which got me to thinking about the measures I've taken to get my coffee. Recently, I smartened up and got myself one of those nice steel mesh perma-filters. Not only is it a little better on the environment, but I know that I will never run out of paper filters. No more desperate, bleary-eyed nighttime runs to Harris Teeter. Under the duress of no filters, I've taken some pretty drastic measures in my day.

Jimmy-rigging a paper towel doesn't count. That's kid's stuff compared to some of the filters I've made out of everyday household items.

My most ingenious moment came a few years ago, when I was out of EVERYTHING: filters, paper towels, and nearly out of coffee. How would I wake up? I desperately searched the entire place for whatever I could find -- a sugar sifter, fishing net, medical gauze -- and nothing! Note: My first aid kit has since improved dramatically.

So now I'm really miserable, all shaky and headachy, unsure as to where my next cup of coffee will come from. And so delerious that I forget that I can drive a mile down the road to my favorite coffeehouse and solve my problem pronto. I run into the bedroom, open the chest of drawers, and there...there lies my salvation.

I grab a freshly-washed pair of hosiery, the sheer, elegant kind. I chop off its foot. I dart back to the kitchen and place the foot carefully into the filter bucket. I dump in the coffee grinds. Another morning is saved by sheer (no pun intended) American ingenuity. God bless America, my hose sweet hose.

Ah. So in other news of my weekend, I finally got to have brunch with George after church on Sunday. He's one of those sorts who is into everything, and turns up everywhere. For years, he's been doing voice-over work. You hear him at the most unexpected of times on the strangest commercials. Like for a Republican candidate. Or for the highway safety commission. They are the commercials you don't pay much attention to, until you realize, "hey, I know that guy!" Yet another good reason to have moved back to Winston -- George stories. He's lived long and well and likes to tell about it. Like recently, when he went on a date with a woman whose body powder he was allergic to, and couldn't get within a foot of her.

Romance is alive and well. Talk to you tomorrow. And by the way, it snowed in Winston yesterday. We stood in it after church and marveled. It never snows this early, but made for a perfect Sunday afternoon.