Love of my life

Dear Coffee Pot,

I love you so much. You know that. In fact, if I could pick only one appliance to be stranded on a desert island with, I would choose you, assuming the desert island is also stocked with electrical outlets and a plentiful supply of coffee beans. I would even choose you over the DVD player that allows my child to remain silent for at least a half an hour each morning as I suck down the fruits of your labor and gear up for yet another day.

But we need to talk about the beeping.

Try as I might, I can not figure out how to disable your five, loud, successive beeps that alert me to the fact your job is done. See, here's the thing: you don't have to beep to tell me your pot is full. Odds are, I am hovering over your steaming, chrome-and-plastic beauty, just waiting for the pot to be full enough to pull out mid-stream and fill my cup. (This is my favorite feature--not having to wait for the cycle to be complete before filling my waiting cup.) The problem is that, some mornings, and they are few and far between...I am actually able to sneak out of bed before my child senses or smells that I am already awake and enjoying part of the day without her, and I need to sneak around a bit. I don't even turn on the bathroom light to pee for fear of disturbing my peace. I love my cats but if they get a little too frisky on these special, special mornings, I kind of want to kick them. So your beeping? It's a problem.

I've tried hunting for the source of the beeping so I could cover it with a towel or even my sweatshirt sleeve to muffle the sound, but all this got me was a steam burn and, soon after, a faint call of Mommy?? from the bedroom. I have tried unplugging you right before the beep but re-programming you is a pain and sometimes you beep anyway. You're persistent like that.

And so, my beloved coffee pot, my favorite appliance, I love you in spite of your beeping, in spite of the fact that you consistently ruin the few mornings I have all to myself. Rumor has it that teenagers will sleep through anything, even five loud early-morning beeps, and so I hold out hope for the day, ten years down the road, where I can sneak out of bed and enjoy a couple hours in the day not filled with incessant whining. Mornings that will be filled with yummy coffee and checking my email instead.

While I'm waiting for that day, I'll take a refill. Thanks.