August 19th, 2009

Two Fridays ago I walked into my house and found a handsome man grinding up Caribou Obsidian Coffee beans.

And thank God he did. I was almost out of ground coffee and I don’t like dealing with the grinder. It’s messy. (Of course it was Mr. J. Though frankly, I’d be hard pressed to be upset at anyone who is in my home grinding up my favorite coffee beans.)

I have often said I need a nanny. Let’s be clear: the nanny is for me. I don’t have any children. Wouldn’t it be divine to have someone make your coffee, iron your clothes, fix your nutritionally balanced and highly delicious dinner and brush your cats for you?

Hmmm…maybe I need a stay-at-home wife.

The first 90 days after Mr. J relocated I stopped and bought coffee every morning because I’d never brewed coffee in my life. (Prior husband was British so I can brew a mean cup of tea. However, obviously it was not mean enough as he left me.)

I considered knowing how to brew coffee akin to knowing how to deal with the copier at work being out of toner: the less you knew the better. In this case knowledge is not power; it is culpability.

Nevertheless, when I began adding up the cost of my morning coffee I realized that while I might be making Caribou Coffee very, very happy, my bank account was less so.

I am proud to say that I can now make a fantastic cup of coffee (provided someone grinds my beans when he is home every two weeks) but I still disavow all knowledge of the multi functional photocopier/printer/scanner at work.

My point is this: sometimes it is the little things that make all the difference. Those extra bits of kindness that say “I love you” every evening when I’m filling up the coffee maker for my AM java.

With every whiff of bittersweet chocolate coffee I feel like Mr. J is nearby, even when hundreds of miles away.

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