I broke my coffee machine. Fuck.
Using “fuck” in the story title is cheap, I’ve always thought. But this morning’s incident deserves a “fuck”.
It was going to be a lovely morning. I got up early and waited for the local Sprouts to open. It’s just a five-minute walk from where I live in Irvine. I’d run out of coffee beans. To say that I love coffee — plain black, nothing added- in the morning is an understatement. Don’t ask me what I like better — my coffee in the morning or my beer after running. I wouldn’t be able to answer this very hard question.