Veintinueve

A good friend of mine once compared women to spaghetti and men to waffles. Women, she said, are always thinking something. There is never a time when their minds are empty. Men, she continued, are capable of not thinking about anything, as exemplified by the squares in the waffle that don’t end up with syrup.

Several days ago, I was doing my dishes around 1 AM (you know, about the time your fine motor skills quit working) and I broke my coffee maker. There are only a few pieces that go into the filter-containing-apparatus, but I could not for the life of me figure out how to get it back together. I went to sleep somewhat frustrated and thought, “I’ll tackle this in the morning.”

Well, Morning Kris didn’t know how to fix it either. Thus began a week of far-too-costly-campus-brewed coffee.

Last night, I went to sleep again thinking about my coffee maker. (Is that sad?)

And—I kid you not—I dreamed how to fix it. Subconscious Kris managed to correctly assemble the pieces. I woke up and was like, “Oh, duh!” and promptly went into my kitchen, fixed it, and brewed coffee.

I am not joking when I say my mind does not rest.