Sickness prevails, potty training is still postponed, and I have high, high hopes tomorrow will be a better day. - high hopes.
Going along with the not-so-better-day part, I'll add in that my trusted french press died. One nice long crack right down the middle. I thought I could chance it for a while, but coffee started beading out along the crack line; and with how much I anticipate my coffee there was no way I was having it burst all over myself and the kitchen floor. No sir. AND more importantly I didn't want my mini side-kick getting burned in the whole fiasco - she's always sure to be just a foot behind me at the most inconvenient of times.
That close. Literally.
So out went the french press and in came Mr. Bialetti - my old friend who was banned to the back of the cupboard for the better part of my Meagher life.
I just never could get the coffee right with him. I wasn't too committed to figuring it out either. I did love his espresso back in the day, but at some point moved on.
But back he is, and after today's trial and error I realized I'm destined to the Americano for as long as he's around. The jury's out as to whether I will adjust.
On the flip side of things you may never have to read about my longing for a cup of coffee again. I'll plague you instead with complaint after complaint about brews gone wrong. Kidding
but not really. And on the other flip side, I'm sure you're just hoping I start feeling better so no more posts like this show up.