A couple of weeks ago I was at my wits end about the fate of my coffee maker, a DeLonghi Gran Dama that had broken and was in repair-shop limbo. I won't recount the whole story here, but when I first told my coffee maker saga to Blogville, I swore that as soon as I had the Gran Dama back in my possession, I would name the repair shop that was causing so much trouble, and I would shout their offenses for all the world to hear.
But then my fully functioning coffee maker arrived, and I sat down with a demitasse cup full of frothy espresso, and all was forgiven. Yes, the repairmen were irresponsible with the machine they've had since February. Yes, they were hapless and patronizing each time I called for an update. Yes, they made me angry enough to leave a steaming pile of dog poo on their front porch, light it on fire, and ring the door bell. Angry enough to stow a stinking bluegill in the bottom drawer of their filing cabinet. Angry enough to, oh, I don't know, tell the world they stink at their jobs. But now, what would be the point?
Instead, I'll just let it all go. That's what good coffee can do for you. It can convince you to erase what offends you and take another sip. I will show you this, though:
It's the box my repaired coffee maker arrived in. Actually, it's a box inside a box inside a box. Tiger is in the shot for scale. The coffee maker itself is about the size of a hefty cat.