the things that die. and those that won’t

It’s Saturday morning, and it begins the ways all days begin: coffee. As I’m enjoying my first cup, and maybe you’re enjoying yours, too, I’m going to share a story about the machine.

About 10 years ago, a neighbor showed up at my door with a Keurig coffee maker as a thank you for a favor I’d done for her. It was too generous an offering for just a little help, but she was excited to give it to me and I didn’t know how to refuse graciously.

In addition to the general awkwardness, I didn’t need a coffee maker. I already had a mini-sized Keurig that worked just fine for my minimal coffee habit. The one she brought me was huge and I didn’t want to give up the counter space.

The Keurig I owned at the time wasn’t my first. One just like it had died a few months before. Clearly it wasn’t a reliable appliance, but it did the job and it fit the space, so I bought the same model a second time. This one also came to a premature end, so I unboxed Keurig #3. The Gift.

What’s the expression, “Third time’s a charm”? Neither of the two pint-sized models lasted more than a year. This one won’t die.

Some people crave new and modern, even if they have something that works just fine. Others use a thing to death and grudgingly replace it. I fall in the middle. There are things that aren’t important to me, like cars and cell phones. I get a utilitarian model and hope it lasts forever. But it’s been a tough year.

A few months ago, a crew working the night shift lifted the catalytic converter from my beloved 20-year-old Prius. I could have bought a new part, but I’d still have to park the vehicle in a very street-accessible–thus thief-accessible–carport. I didn’t want a new car. But I got a new car.

I had equally bad luck this year with my cell phone. It had been doing the dreaded inexplicable+annoying battery discharge thing for a while. At first it was just during podcasts. Then it began dying during telephone calls. I didn’t want a new cell phone. But I got a new cell phone.

And then, the coffee maker. I’m ready for it to die. I want it to die. I’ve already got a replacement teed up. It’s made in the USA. It’s small and convenient. It wants to move into the Keurig’s space. But the Keurig isn’t going anywhere. It’s immortal.

Ah. The things that die.

And those that won’t.

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