An homage to my Mr. Coffee...

After 6 years, I finally murdered my coffeemaker.

The Mr. Coffee was the Ol' Reliable of coffeemakers. It was the first appliance that I bought when I moved out of my parents house at age 17. It was white, plastic, with absolutely no features than it could simply make coffee. It wasn't attractive, it wasn't special, it certainly wasn't fancy, but it was functional, and so, like the ugly white plastic microwave, it still hadn't been replaced by something more elegant (uh, as coffee makers go). Besides, since my house, lovely as it is, has fake brick linoleum floors in the kitchen, there's really a limit to what you can do to "upgrade."

It was a constant in my life. 6 years, 4 moves, college, a few jobs, a lot of different haircuts (some really bitchin, some total MISTAKES), some really unique roommates, houseguests, pets (Little Bitch the Hampster, anyone?), meals cooked, drinks mixed, 3 couches, a thouand pairs of really great shoes, relationships, some good, some I would rather forget, laughter, tears, and more slow mornings than I care to admit, it came to a crashing mess in my sink.

Now, my kitchen countertop sports a fancy West Bend espresso maker. It makes coffee AND espresso. It is black. It is shiny. It has features. It makes the rest of the kitchen look shabby. It kind of intimidates me.

Hopefully, it will make a good cup of coffee.

So, raise your glasses, childen, and toast the end of an era. Or something.