They say that bad things come in three’s, and I am an official believer in this.
When we came home from vacation, the one thing I was really looking forward to was a good cup of coffee. Don’t get me wrong, the coffee at the hotels we stayed at was pretty good, and the Latte in Silver City made me swoon, but I was hankerin’ for my own personal java.
You can officially label me a coffee snob.
So when I got up our first morning back and sleepily glided towards the coffee maker expecting my morning ambrosia, I pulled back the carafe and found… nothing. The pot was empty.
OK, I knew that I had filled the thing with water and grounds the night before, and just to be sure I checked under the hood of the machine. Yep, all filled up.
Did I set the timer correctly? Yep, no problems there. Well, I’ll just turn it on and manually make a pot.
Push “ON” button and… nothing.
Crappers, must have had some power outages and surges while we were gone and they zapped the machine. Two days later I threw on polar garb and headed to town to get a new machine, because making French Press coffee wasn’t cutting it.
Number One down, on to number two.
One oddity that did not escape my eyes upon our return was the dying remains of my Prayer Plant. I know that I had made it a point to water all the plants in the house before we left, so I was dumbfounded when I came upon my once luscious leaves now sickly and dying.
So I threw some water in it and prayed to the Botany Gods that it would perk up.
Apparently those gods don’t like me so much because 24 hours later it was still a pathetic mess when it should have been bouncing back. It took me 3 days to realize that although turning the thermostat down to 55 while we were gone was a smart idea, the flip side was not taking into account that the aged plant couldn’t handle such a low temperature for an extended period of time.
So out came the scissors and for the first time in the plant’s 15 years, it got a hair cut. Actually, it was more like a buzz cut because 80 percent of the plant was toast. It is currently in recovery in the livingroom where it can bask in some warmth from the fireplace.
Numero three decided to hit us today, in the midst of the worst arctic blast (or Polar Vortex according to the weather experts~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>) to hit the area in who knows how long.
We heat our home primarily with a wood burning insert which has a fan to push the hot air into the house. This morning that fan decided to take a crap, which means no warm air. Sure, we have a furnace to keep us toasty while the repair man is trying to figure out the problem, but propane is expensive and I’m a cheapskate.
Good thing I don’t mind wearing lots of layers and looking like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man for a little while.
If a number four decides to rear it’s ugly head, I’m heading back to New Mexico
On that note, here’s a little conversation that Rick & I had at one of the many rest stops in New Mexico.
Rick~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneystrong>~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>: Honey, check out the sign.
Me~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneystrong>~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>: “Notice Please Supervise Your…~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem> “~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>
Rick~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneystrong>~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>: Um, not that sign.
Me~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneystrong>~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>: Oohhhhh~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooney~sandyrooneyem>… maybe I don’t need to use the restroom that bad.