Coffee Flood

I went over to the industrial coffee maker, as I do every morning I'm at the office, and set about making the first pot of the day. After completing the procedure, I went to the women's room to apply some lipstick and eyeshadow and to smooth out some wrinkles in my sweater, etc. As I glided the applicator over my lips, I thought about the cup of joe I would have in mere seconds.

A lake of brown water flowed unchecked on the tiny kitchenette counter. There was no pot on the burner, overflowing or otherwise. 'Who,' I wondered 'took the karafe away?' I stood there dumbfounded, assuming that the whole thing had malfunctioned and that some kind person (no one is on my side of the office but me, by the way)had come and found the brewer spilling over and had removed the actual pot. In about 5 seconds it ocurred to me that this was a stupid conjecture. So. Realization dawned. I had walked away without ever putting a karafe on the burner. I made coffee alright. I made coffee all over everything...and the liquid had caused the machine to shut itself off. Great. I had broken the office's industrial coffee maker.

First things first. I used about 1,000 napkins in my clean up effort--sopping heaps of brown stained paper product in my hands. After about 10 rounds of wiping, the job was nearing completion. I unplugged the cord, dried it,and plugged it back in. The power button did not turn the machine back on. I stood there mentally tabulating how much this would cost, figuring I'd owe at least 50 dollars for this contraption (it's old, I would not pay full price I decided)...

I IMd Michael (who sits on the other side)the following:

"Okay, so I broke the coffee machine..."

He came to my rescue, pushed some button on the outlet, and voila...the bright red button that yields me a legal stimulant by the cupful came back on. So, if you'll excuse me... it should be ready now.