We had been storing our coffee pot on top of the fridge (for lack of counter space) this last week. I know, I know, not the smartest place to put the second most used appliance in the house (it comes in as a close second to the fridge itself). However, with all the painting, moving, rearranging taking place, on top of the fridge was the best option.

On Saturday morning, I reached up to grab the coffee maker. It was just about down when… I realized the cord was wrapped around a glass jar (seriously, what is our deal with putting breakables on the fridge?!). I pushed the coffee maker back up. Then my thumb slipped. Before I even knew what happened, the coffee pot fell, shattering into a million pieces. Apparently, that’s the draw back to wood floors. Of course, both girls are in the kitchen. Immediately I yelled “Don’t move!”. It seemed smart at the time, but only freaked Julia out, causing her to start crying and running toward me. Yep, I’m one smart cookie.

We got the mess cleaned up and everyone was fine. Well, sorta. See, I can’t live without coffee. Ok, ok, that’s not entirely true. I choose not to live without coffee. And in my choice not to live without it, that means I need at least 2-3 cups a day. Honestly though, I’m not addicted. Promise.

Once the fiasco had passed, I tweeted that our coffee pot died (a most gruesome death, being it Saturday morning and all). Later that day, I had a girls’ day out to celebrate Leah’s birthday. During our outing I bemoaned the loss of the coffee pot. I mean, really, what am I to do all week without coffee? While I’m not an addict (I pinky swear), it does seem harsh to force someone to make such a sacrifice.

Then on Sunday afternoon my friend, Kate, sends me a text. She asked if she could stop by later that evening to drop something off for me as a birthday/house warming gift. At 8:15 that evening, she shows up at my door with this:

Oh, bless you Kate! My Monday will be off to a good start because of you!

See, I told you my friends rock!