Hoping to get ahead, I called my son. I spent the previous hour working out. The temperature had dropped to the mid-20s and I was so looking forward to a cup of hot coffee. He’s never used the coffee maker, but I’ll walk him through it.
Just then, I noticed on my dash that I only had four miles of gas left. Eh. I decided it was a good time to stop, so I pull into the Speedway on my right.
“Hey, can you do me a favor?” I asked over the Bluetooth as I pulled up to the pump.
“Sure. What do you want?” my son replied.
“Start me up a pot of coffee,” and my mind catapulted into all the future scenarios when I would wake and my thoughtful son would have coffee already brewing. This is great.
“OK, first, take the pot out and fill it to 12,” I began. “Now open up the top and pour it in…” I continued. Maybe making a pot of coffee is something someone should know how to do before they’re 13, but, we’re special. Some lessons I’ve overlooked imparting upon my child.
Even though I had pulled up to the pump, I didn’t want to get out of the car until the directions were specified, given the freezing temp. Next, I give him instructions to find the cabinet with the coffee filters.
“Now, go in the tall narrow cabinet next to the stove…”
“Oh, above the microwave?”
“No, the stovetop. On the wall facing Sean’s house. The North wall.”
“Below the counter?”
“Where are you looking? The wall next to the stove top. There’s only two cabinets. The tall narrow one. Facing Sean’s house.”
“Sean Hynes’ house?”
Now, this is his friend’s house, who lives about 4 blocks East of us. Eye roll. Sigh. Holy God, help me from losing it.
“NO. Our next door neighbor Sean. The cabinet with all my spices.”
“The one with the coffee filters in it?”
Five minutes later, I’m still sitting in my car at the Speedway gas pump. I continue with instructions and finally he’s got it percolating. Sigh.
“Alright. Thanks hon. I’ll be home in 5 minutes.”
I get out, laughing, and shake my head at the irony of the situation as I reach for the gas pump. I pull up my sleeve after feeling a tug and notice the heart monitor band still attached to my arm. The heart monitor that belongs to my workout place. The work out place which I will now have to haul my ass back to after I pump gas.
At least I had a pot of hot coffee waiting for me when I arrived home.