Sad to hear, so so sad.
Not many things bother me. Barely anything makes me sad. However, I get up in the morning and find that the coffee machine had a leak. It is terminal. Kaput. Not worth fixing. Gone to the recyclers.
We had such a lovely relationship. The mornings were such a joy. I stumble through the house, looking for things and bump my toes in a sleep drunken dizziness. In the kitchen I can see the little green light of a dear and needed friend of mine. I’m talking about Antonio, my coffee machine. Why Antonio? Simple, Italians make the best coffee. Hence I call my coffee machine Antonio. He is red and ready at 6 am for delivering a life enhancing, brown flow of godliness.
Today is different. My usual sleep deprived staggers through the house wasn’t greeted by a green light. For that matter there was no light at all. Straight away the hair on my back stands up and I get a little twitch in my left eye. I only get that when I notice something out of the order. No green light would only mean a few things. We have no power or something horrible went down in the kitchen. I remember waking up to the tune of the national news. Therefor we have power.
I enter the kitchen, my eyes are alert by now. With horror I notice the light is off and Antonio is in a small but noticeable pool of brown water. That feeling of sadness and anger sets in and I check the plug. It’s in the wall and powered up. It’s not loose either. Even the switch is on. Antonio is cold, drained and in a state of sad. I grab him with both hands and lift him up. All I can hear is a quiet gurgle from within and a few drops of brown water leaks onto the bench.
Antonio is dead. My coffee machine has died. This is a sad moment. I have seen and witnessed many appliances in this kitchen die. The stick mixer. He went with a broken bearing. The toaster. I agree I should have cleaned him out a bit sooner. I’m just glad he didn’t burn the house down. The smoke was intense though. The relationship with those were purely practical. I could still mix things without the stick mixer, toasts could still be made, but the fine smell of freshly made coffee in the morning is gone.
I sat down and sobbed a little bit. There you go. A big, tough bloke shedding a tear over a coffee machine. Once you form a tight bond with an item that seems to understand your needs in the morning, you form a bond. You can’t describe the sad feeling in your chest when you experience such a traumatic loss in your life. It scars you forever.
I gather myself and pick up Antonio, unplug him from the wall and carry him outside. Hard Rubbish is on. Good timing.
I go to the shops and buy Anthony. I think we will be friends forever!
The end
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