Our ground floor is a construction site. Sort of. A group of men came in, demolished two thirds of the floor, ripped out our kitchen, and then completely disappeared. It has been two weeks since I have seen anyone working. They tell me this is normal. But enough about that.
I have long been wanting a coffee maker in my bedroom. I do not like waking up and having to work out how best to passive-aggressively ask M to go downstairs and make me a cup of coffee. (M can shower, get dressed and do all sorts of things without the assistance of caffeine, but I cannot.) Now that our kitchen is basically a hot plate and a kettle — which cannot be used simultaneously lest the entire room lose power — I had good reason to move the machine upstairs.
I don’t know what took me so long! Now I can drink black coffee (the cheaper the better) before I have to talk to anyone, before I have to take more than 20 steps. I may have to plug the Crock Pot in outside (more on that later) and keep the toaster in the bathroom (who doesn’t want to eat a bagel on the toilet?), but I do it all while very well caffeinated.
Given that we may not have a kitchen until mid-2020, I am going to need all the coffee I can get.