I spent so much of this morning trying to get my coffee grinder to work.
It simply was not budging, and what was worse, every time I was turning it, the knob at the bottom was turning too. That meant that the size of the grounds was getting smaller and smaller as I turned. I could not get the thing to work.
An hour was spent while listening to a podcast, and at the end of it all I just barely managed to get my grinder to spit out enough for my coffee.
Let me tell you that the anger I felt in this moment was beyond necessary. Looking at the clock, and seeing that all my routines and plans for the day would have to get shifted back, I became absolutely apoplectic
What a mockery I have made on the life I am living! What a stupid thing to get overly upset about, especially when the world is faced with what it is. Especially considering that it is shaping up to be another beautiful day outside. Especially considering the status of service workers out there. They are hero-worshipped and paid little. They don’t need our thanks, they need money. They need a livelihood.
And I’m stuck in here getting upset at a coffee grinder.
I can choose to be the sort of person who recognizes that I am participating in events that could be the last ones I perform on Earth, or I can choose to be dense and unavailable to gratefulness.
Even the pinched and raw feelings in my thumbs from working on the grinder itself. Who knows what pain awaits us too? And to experience the thrill of working on a coffee grinder implies so much about my condition. That I can grind my own coffee, that I participate in this weird analog kickback in the realm of record playing. “The sound is so much clearer,” they say.
“You know, coffee loses its freshness within 15 minutes of its grinding.”
I am just so lucky to be alive, and the recognition of that phrase sets the standard for the rest of the day. So let me say it again: I’m just so lucky to be alive.