You know you wanna laugh.

[Guest guest]

For your enjoyment and entertainment, I present the minutes of my morning. As background, I should note that I'm alone in the house for the weekend -- my family's several hundred miles away at a lacrosse tournament until Sunday evening, and I'm sharing space with one large fluffy black dog, two hamsters, and a 6 month old Yorkshire terrier who is not housetrained yet. The reason I slept in my sister's room is that the two dogs often help themselves to my bed space (while I am still occupying it) and my own mattress is a twin size, whereas 's is a full.

Be glad this is not your life.

5am is traditionally not my best time of the day. I either haven't gone to sleep yet or I've just gotten up, and neither one really leaves me with IQ points intact. This morning it was the latter. I slept in 's room last night and her alarm clock shrilled bright and early, so I rolled out of bed and took Sky out to use the grass while I was awake anyway. After 15 minutes of early morning air I couldn't get back to sleep so I trudged into the kitchen and eyed my shiny cappucino machine. I don't use it often because it's a pain in the ass and I am lazy. Somehow my 5:15 judgement was clouded enough to lose sight of both those very important facts.Note to self: PLAN AHEAD. If you buy pre-ground coffee to avoid needing to pour beans and operate the blade grinder at times of the morning when you are not at your best, it's a good idea to check the cannister in advance and ensure there is not an actual metal lid requiring use of the can opener, as opposed to one of those foil pull-top seals you were expecting. This is not Folger's Crystals -- no, because you were already iffy about sacrificing the qualify of fresh beans for pre-ground, you absolutely had to buy the gourmet Italian stuff, and for that amount of money the coffee people are a little more serious about keeping their product fresh. If there is such a lid, remove it ahead of time. That is why the cannister comes with an air-tight rubber cap. Let's face it, if you're too fucked up to be able to figure out which end of the can opener is up, you're not going to notice if your coffee is 8 hours old and revived in the microwave, let alone if the cannister is freshly opened.Successfully having negotiated the can opener, I was then required to dig around in three cabinets and one glued-shut drawer looking for the little metal cannister filter that fits into the espresso head. The gods forbid I own a piece of kitchen equipment that doesn't come with fifty little detachable pieces. I somehow managed to measure grounds into the filter, insert the filter, lock down the filter, measure water into the airtight tank, and seal the airtight tank. I'm sure my measurements were less than accurate considering by this point I no longer cared about the use of any form of measuring device, but the day I can't pour out coffee beans by sight is the day I'm buried. I then promptly went off to perform my morning ablutions, completely forgetting the fact that the steamer attachment for milk requires one to wait until enough pressure has built up in the tank to begin the espresso process, temporarily halt said process, then steam the milk utilizing the available steam in the tank before restarting the process to complete the espresso. Now you should begin to realize how idiotic it was to even attempt this within an hour (to either side) of dawn. By the time I felt suitably clean and refreshed, the espresso had completed and there was no more steam in the tank for the milk. This required me to unseal the tank, a touchy and hot process requiring use of a dish towel (you're really not supposed to do it until the machine's had a little time to cool down), refill it with fresh water, reseal it, and turn the whole thing back on to wait for pressure to build. Another laborious and agonizingly slow noncaffeinated five minutes.Then the steamer didn't work. I flipped the switch, held the pitcher under the nozzle, and waited. Nothing. The nozzle wasn't even heating. I'll spare the florid description of my slow-witted attempts to discover the problem, which ate up ten more minutes and turned out to be that I apparently couldn't be bothered to clean the nozzle the last time I used the machine (probably months ago) and it was clogged. Note: when the manual says to insert a fine-tipped needle gently into the tip of the nozzle to ensure any hardened milk is cleared out what they really mean is to jam something about the width of a fork tine up several inches into the nozzle and then very quickly remove your hands, or have them wrapped in a dish towel, as the resulting escape of built-up steam pressure will be very loud, very hot, and very painful. The fine-tipped needle concept didn't work -- I gently inserted it and assumed all was well, but the steamer still failed to function, and that threw me for a loop for a while until it occured to me to try something a bit less fine-tipped. I shouldn't have to tell you that I learned that bit of advice about the dish towel the hard way. In the end I successfully managed to steam the appropriate amount of frothy dairy product after several miscalculations as to how much the appropriate amount was.So now it's been about twenty minutes. My espresso itself is probably growing cold. The countertop is strewn with coffee grinds, used spoons, opened cans, spilled cold half & half, spilled steamed half & half, spilled espresso, spilled cold water, spilled incredibly hot water, soggy dish towels, and half-melted plastic coffee cups. My right hand is turning red and there's the beginnings of a blister on my left ring finger. Now is when I discover that my mother, reasoning that I am the shortest person in the house and also the only person who takes sugar in my coffee, has cleverly decided that an appropriate place to store the sugar bowl is in the china cabinet top shelf approximately two feet over my head. I should mention that this is not the first time she's placed it there, nor is it the only or even the most convenient place to store a glass container of its size. Either it's some kind of passive aggressive wrath or she's really, really averse to the idea of sweetened coffee. (Okay, okay, I'll stop being mean and say that I assume the actual reason is that she's 5'9" and often in her hurry to clear off the countertop that I've left a huge mess on, it slips her mind that I'm nine inches shorter and have difficulty reaching and bending. That being said, it's still incredibly frustrating that she repeatedly places the only countertop item which is solely for my use into the only storage space I'm not able to practically access. Why can't the coffee spoons or the cream pitcher or the saucers or anything else nonessential go up there?). Finally in frustration I dragged out the 5lb bag of sugar from the pantry, managing to add a crystalline sparkle of white powder to the rapidly congealing slurry on the countertop.About 40 minutes have passed. I've destroyed the kitchen, given myself first degree burns, and abused my shoulder, elbow, wrist, and finger joints to the point where I'm either going to have to take a painkiller or accept that I will not be able to type, open doors, dress myself, or pick anything up for the next six hours.However it must be said that I have produced the most fabulous cup of cappucino known to man. I spooned on some real whipped cream that I'd made for the strawberries last night.

[Guest guest]

Please provide us with more moments of your life, you have a unique sense

of humor and a talent for writing! Hope the rest of your day goes better!

--- In Rheumatoid Arthritis , Jenni <chaospearl@o...>

wrote:

> For your enjoyment and entertainment, I present the minutes of my morning.

As background, I should note that I'm alone in the house for the weekend --

my family's several hundred miles away at a lacrosse tournament until

Sunday evening, and I'm sharing space with one large fluffy black dog, two

hamsters, and a 6 month old Yorkshire terrier who is not housetrained yet.

The reason I slept in my sister's room is that the two dogs often help

themselves to my bed space (while I am still occupying it) and my own

mattress is a twin size, whereas 's is a full.

>

> Be glad this is not your life.

>

> 5am is traditionally not my best time of the day. I either haven't gone to

sleep yet or I've just gotten up, and neither one really leaves me with IQ

points

intact. This morning it was the latter. I slept in 's room last night and

her

alarm clock shrilled bright and early, so I rolled out of bed and took Sky out

to

use the grass while I was awake anyway. After 15 minutes of early morning

air I couldn't get back to sleep so I trudged into the kitchen and eyed my

shiny

cappucino machine. I don't use it often because it's a pain in the ass and I

am lazy. Somehow my 5:15 judgement was clouded enough to lose sight of

both those very important facts.

>

> Note to self: PLAN AHEAD. If you buy pre-ground coffee to avoid needing

to pour beans and operate the blade grinder at times of the morning when

you are not at your best, it's a good idea to check the cannister in advance

and ensure there is not an actual metal lid requiring use of the can opener, as

opposed to one of those foil pull-top seals you were expecting. This is not

Folger's Crystals -- no, because you were already iffy about sacrificing the

qualify of fresh beans for pre-ground, you absolutely had to buy the gourmet

Italian stuff, and for that amount of money the coffee people are a little more

serious about keeping their product fresh. If there is such a lid, remove it

ahead of time. That is why the cannister comes with an air-tight rubber cap.

Let's face it, if you're too fucked up to be able to figure out which end of

the

can opener is up, you're not going to notice if your coffee is 8 hours old and

revived in the microwave, let alone if the cannister is freshly opened.

>

> Successfully having negotiated the can opener, I was then required to dig

around in three cabinets and one glued-shut drawer looking for the little metal

cannister filter that fits into the espresso head. The gods forbid I own a

piece

of kitchen equipment that doesn't come with fifty little detachable pieces. I

somehow managed to measure grounds into the filter, insert the filter, lock

down the filter, measure water into the airtight tank, and seal the airtight

tank.

I'm sure my measurements were less than accurate considering by this point I

no longer cared about the use of any form of measuring device, but the day I

can't pour out coffee beans by sight is the day I'm buried.

>

> I then promptly went off to perform my morning ablutions, completely

forgetting the fact that the steamer attachment for milk requires one to wait

until enough pressure has built up in the tank to begin the espresso process,

temporarily halt said process, then steam the milk utilizing the available steam

in the tank before restarting the process to complete the espresso. Now you

should begin to realize how idiotic it was to even attempt this within an hour

(to either side) of dawn. By the time I felt suitably clean and refreshed, the

espresso had completed and there was no more steam in the tank for the

milk. This required me to unseal the tank, a touchy and hot process requiring

use of a dish towel (you're really not supposed to do it until the machine's

had

a little time to cool down), refill it with fresh water, reseal it, and turn the

whole

thing back on to wait for pressure to build. Another laborious and agonizingly

slow noncaffeinated five minutes.

>

> Then the steamer didn't work.

>

> I flipped the switch, held the pitcher under the nozzle, and waited. Nothing.

The nozzle wasn't even heating. I'll spare the florid description of my slow-

witted attempts to discover the problem, which ate up ten more minutes and

turned out to be that I apparently couldn't be bothered to clean the nozzle the

last time I used the machine (probably months ago) and it was clogged.

Note: when the manual says to insert a fine-tipped needle gently into the tip

of the nozzle to ensure any hardened milk is cleared out what they really

mean is to jam something about the width of a fork tine up several inches into

the nozzle and then very quickly remove your hands, or have them wrapped

in a dish towel, as the resulting escape of built-up steam pressure will be very

loud, very hot, and very painful. The fine-tipped needle concept didn't work --

I gently inserted it and assumed all was well, but the steamer still failed to

function, and that threw me for a loop for a while until it occured to me to try

something a bit less fine-tipped. I shouldn't have to tell you that I learned

that

bit of advice about the dish towel the hard way. In the end I successfully

managed to steam the appropriate amount of frothy dairy product after several

miscalculations as to how much the appropriate amount was.

>

> So now it's been about twenty minutes. My espresso itself is probably

growing cold. The countertop is strewn with coffee grinds, used spoons,

opened cans, spilled cold half & half, spilled steamed half & half, spilled

espresso, spilled cold water, spilled incredibly hot water, soggy dish towels,

and half-melted plastic coffee cups. My right hand is turning red and there's

the beginnings of a blister on my left ring finger. Now is when I discover that

my mother, reasoning that I am the shortest person in the house and also the

only person who takes sugar in my coffee, has cleverly decided that an

appropriate place to store the sugar bowl is in the china cabinet top shelf

approximately two feet over my head. I should mention that this is not the

first

time she's placed it there, nor is it the only or even the most convenient place

to store a glass container of its size. Either it's some kind of passive

aggressive wrath or she's really, really averse to the idea of sweetened

coffee. (Okay, okay, I'll stop being mean and say that I assume the actual

reason is that she's 5'9 " and often in her hurry to clear off the countertop

that

I've left a huge mess on, it slips her mind that I'm nine inches shorter and

have

difficulty reaching and bending. That being said, it's still incredibly

frustrating

that she repeatedly places the only countertop item which is solely for my use

into the only storage space I'm not able to practically access. Why can't the

coffee spoons or the cream pitcher or the saucers or anything else

nonessential go up there?). Finally in frustration I dragged out the 5lb bag of

sugar from the pantry, managing to add a crystalline sparkle of white powder

to the rapidly congealing slurry on the countertop.

>

> About 40 minutes have passed. I've destroyed the kitchen, given myself first

degree burns, and abused my shoulder, elbow, wrist, and finger joints to the

point where I'm either going to have to take a painkiller or accept that I will

not

be able to type, open doors, dress myself, or pick anything up for the next six

hours.

>

> However it must be said that I have produced the most fabulous cup of

cappucino known to man. I spooned on some real whipped cream that I'd

made for the strawberries last night.

[Guest guest]

And to think, this was only one hour in " the Life of

Jeni " ............Imagine what a day would bring.........very well writen

Jenni.

Dorey

----- Original Message -----

From: " " <catdelouise@...>

<Rheumatoid Arthritis >

Sent: Saturday, June 11, 2005 7:37 AM

Subject: Re: You know you wanna laugh.

> Please provide us with more moments of your life, you have a unique sense

> of humor and a talent for writing! Hope the rest of your day goes better!

>

>

>

>

>> For your enjoyment and entertainment, I present the minutes of my

>> morning.

> As background, I should note that I'm alone in the house for the

> weekend --

> my family's several hundred miles away at a lacrosse tournament until

> Sunday evening, and I'm sharing space with one large fluffy black dog, two

> hamsters, and a 6 month old Yorkshire terrier who is not housetrained yet.

> The reason I slept in my sister's room is that the two dogs often help

> themselves to my bed space (while I am still occupying it) and my own

> mattress is a twin size, whereas 's is a full.

>>

>> Be glad this is not your life.

>>

>> 5am is traditionally not my best time of the day. I either haven't gone

>> to

> sleep yet or I've just gotten up, and neither one really leaves me with IQ

> points

> intact. This morning it was the latter. I slept in 's room last

> night and her

> alarm clock shrilled bright and early, so I rolled out of bed and took Sky

> out to

> use the grass while I was awake anyway. After 15 minutes of early morning

> air I couldn't get back to sleep so I trudged into the kitchen and eyed

> my shiny

> cappucino machine. I don't use it often because it's a pain in the ass

> and I

> am lazy. Somehow my 5:15 judgement was clouded enough to lose sight of

> both those very important facts.

>>

>> Note to self: PLAN AHEAD. If you buy pre-ground coffee to avoid needing

> to pour beans and operate the blade grinder at times of the morning when

> you are not at your best, it's a good idea to check the cannister in

> advance

> and ensure there is not an actual metal lid requiring use of the can

> opener, as

> opposed to one of those foil pull-top seals you were expecting. This is

> not

> Folger's Crystals -- no, because you were already iffy about sacrificing

> the

> qualify of fresh beans for pre-ground, you absolutely had to buy the

> gourmet

> Italian stuff, and for that amount of money the coffee people are a little

> more

> serious about keeping their product fresh. If there is such a lid, remove

> it

> ahead of time. That is why the cannister comes with an air-tight rubber

> cap.

> Let's face it, if you're too fucked up to be able to figure out which

> end of the

> can opener is up, you're not going to notice if your coffee is 8 hours old

> and

> revived in the microwave, let alone if the cannister is freshly opened.

>>

>> Successfully having negotiated the can opener, I was then required to dig

> around in three cabinets and one glued-shut drawer looking for the little

> metal

> cannister filter that fits into the espresso head. The gods forbid I own

> a piece

> of kitchen equipment that doesn't come with fifty little detachable

> pieces. I

> somehow managed to measure grounds into the filter, insert the filter,

> lock

> down the filter, measure water into the airtight tank, and seal the

> airtight tank.

> I'm sure my measurements were less than accurate considering by this

> point I

> no longer cared about the use of any form of measuring device, but the day

> I

> can't pour out coffee beans by sight is the day I'm buried.

>>

>> I then promptly went off to perform my morning ablutions, completely

> forgetting the fact that the steamer attachment for milk requires one to

> wait

> until enough pressure has built up in the tank to begin the espresso

> process,

> temporarily halt said process, then steam the milk utilizing the available

> steam

> in the tank before restarting the process to complete the espresso. Now

> you

> should begin to realize how idiotic it was to even attempt this within an

> hour

> (to either side) of dawn. By the time I felt suitably clean and

> refreshed, the

> espresso had completed and there was no more steam in the tank for the

> milk. This required me to unseal the tank, a touchy and hot process

> requiring

> use of a dish towel (you're really not supposed to do it until the

> machine's had

> a little time to cool down), refill it with fresh water, reseal it, and

> turn the whole

> thing back on to wait for pressure to build. Another laborious and

> agonizingly

> slow noncaffeinated five minutes.

>>

>> Then the steamer didn't work.

>>

>> I flipped the switch, held the pitcher under the nozzle, and waited.

>> Nothing.

> The nozzle wasn't even heating. I'll spare the florid description of my

> slow-

> witted attempts to discover the problem, which ate up ten more minutes and

> turned out to be that I apparently couldn't be bothered to clean the

> nozzle the

> last time I used the machine (probably months ago) and it was clogged.

> Note: when the manual says to insert a fine-tipped needle gently into the

> tip

> of the nozzle to ensure any hardened milk is cleared out what they really

> mean is to jam something about the width of a fork tine up several inches

> into

> the nozzle and then very quickly remove your hands, or have them wrapped

> in a dish towel, as the resulting escape of built-up steam pressure will

> be very

> loud, very hot, and very painful. The fine-tipped needle concept didn't

> work --

> I gently inserted it and assumed all was well, but the steamer still

> failed to

> function, and that threw me for a loop for a while until it occured to me

> to try

> something a bit less fine-tipped. I shouldn't have to tell you that I

> learned that

> bit of advice about the dish towel the hard way. In the end I

> successfully

> managed to steam the appropriate amount of frothy dairy product after

> several

> miscalculations as to how much the appropriate amount was.

>>

>> So now it's been about twenty minutes. My espresso itself is probably

> growing cold. The countertop is strewn with coffee grinds, used spoons,

> opened cans, spilled cold half & half, spilled steamed half & half,

> spilled

> espresso, spilled cold water, spilled incredibly hot water, soggy dish

> towels,

> and half-melted plastic coffee cups. My right hand is turning red and

> there's

> the beginnings of a blister on my left ring finger. Now is when I

> discover that

> my mother, reasoning that I am the shortest person in the house and also

> the

> only person who takes sugar in my coffee, has cleverly decided that an

> appropriate place to store the sugar bowl is in the china cabinet top

> shelf

> approximately two feet over my head. I should mention that this is not

> the first

> time she's placed it there, nor is it the only or even the most convenient

> place

> to store a glass container of its size. Either it's some kind of passive

> aggressive wrath or she's really, really averse to the idea of sweetened

> coffee. (Okay, okay, I'll stop being mean and say that I assume the

> actual

> reason is that she's 5'9 " and often in her hurry to clear off the

> countertop that

> I've left a huge mess on, it slips her mind that I'm nine inches shorter

> and have

> difficulty reaching and bending. That being said, it's still incredibly

> frustrating

> that she repeatedly places the only countertop item which is solely for my

> use

> into the only storage space I'm not able to practically access. Why can't

> the

> coffee spoons or the cream pitcher or the saucers or anything else

> nonessential go up there?). Finally in frustration I dragged out the 5lb

> bag of

> sugar from the pantry, managing to add a crystalline sparkle of white

> powder

> to the rapidly congealing slurry on the countertop.

>>

>> About 40 minutes have passed. I've destroyed the kitchen, given myself

>> first

> degree burns, and abused my shoulder, elbow, wrist, and finger joints to

> the

> point where I'm either going to have to take a painkiller or accept that I

> will not

> be able to type, open doors, dress myself, or pick anything up for the

> next six

> hours.

>>

>> However it must be said that I have produced the most fabulous cup of

> cappucino known to man. I spooned on some real whipped cream that I'd

> made for the strawberries last night.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>