Warning: Under-caffeinated author ahead. Use caution!

Juli Page Morgan, author of Romances that Rock
Why, yes. Yes, I am.

Tragedy struck our home earlier this week.  Our coffee maker stopped working.  Of course, I didn’t know this until I stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed a mug and pulled up short at the half-inch of dark brown liquid in the bottom of a pot that should have been over half full.

Now, I’m not the brightest coin in the piggy bank first thing in the morning.  I have to have a cup of coffee before I’m coherent enough to realize that I’m actually awake and drinking coffee.  So it took me a minute or two of staring at that half-inch of liquid to realize that the coffee maker had finished its cycle and that was all it was going to give me.  I can only hope my neighbors didn’t hear me, and if they did that they forgive the language.
Willing to give the appliance another chance (to be honest, I was just desperate for coffee), I dumped everything out and started again.  And at the end of this second cycle I beheld yet another half-inch of dark brown liquid.
Since I am temporarily without a working vehicle, I had no recourse but to make do with what the coffee maker had given me.  So I poured some of the extra strong stuff into a mug, added super hot water and drank the resultant…beverage.  Let’s just say that it was not good and leave it at that.
I did not have a productive day.
The reaction of my family tells you all you need to know about my coffee addiction.  Upon hearing my tale of woe, my youngest daughter said, “Man! I’m glad I don’t live there any more!” while sighing in relief at her good fortune in having moved out a few weeks ago.  My oldest daughter didn’t say anything because she is traveling in Ukraine and our communication has been spotty.  But I figure she breathed her own sigh of relief when she saw my post on Facebook and counted herself lucky that she was 3,000 miles away from me at that moment.  My poor husband, who isn’t 3,000 miles away and who does still live here decided to communicate with me by text only (he’s a smart man) and made immediate plans to buy another coffee maker before the sun set on that awful day.  He took me to the store, stood me in front of the selection of coffee makers and told me to get any one I wanted.  People, that’s love.
So I got this:
Author of Romances that Rock
And a light did shine down upon it, and all was well.

Things are back to normal now in our home and peace doth reign each morning.  After that first cup, mind you.  Except for one thing.  The dog is still not used to the sounds the new machine makes as it brews, and roams between the kitchen and the living room barking her fool head off at this new and unexpected noise.  Since this occurs before I’ve had that first cup, relations are strained.  After watching this little performance this morning, my husband remarked that if a rouge coffee maker ever tries to break into the house at least we’ll be protected.

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