Friday, August 19, 2011

Dirty Socks

Jessica and I were at the shop painfully late, as usual, and we were getting punchy. So at about midnight my crafting sister felt it was time for a cuppa Joe. I was in the kitchen area putting some things away when I heard her say to herself, "Hmm, the message on the coffee maker reads 'clean me'.  She shrugged her shoulders and proceeded to add the usual 1 cup of grounds for every one cup of coffee to the basket. I think it started smelling stinky the minute it started brewing. 

Well, the sludge finally settled into the coffee pot and it was time to have a cup. I looked at Jess. "I think it stinks," I said. "No, it smells fine," she retorts- with a sense of self-convincing desperation in her voice. She poured two cups and I proceeded cautiously. I took a sip of the thick, smelly swill. I recoiled. "Jess, it smells and tastes like dirty socks!" I said. Now, word of clarification here, I really don't know what smelly socks taste like, but I imagine this is what they would taste like. I really think a smelly sport sock was crammed into the bottom of the coffee pot.

Anyway....

"It's fine," she repeats as she tries not to smell as she sips. Then she does her usual- careful taste test- by swirling it around in her mouth. Each time she did this I whispered to her "yuuuuummy, dirty socks." "Okay!" she finally agreed putting her cup down. My crafting sister is a connoisseur of good taste, but not at midnight and not when it comes to coffee, but I love her anyway. Sometimes the big sister just needs to put her foot down.  Hey, where's my sock?

Au revior,
Anastasia

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