The last time we replaced our coffee maker, I decided I’d had enough of white.

White stains! No matter how often you wipe it up or bleach it, when you drink your coffee as strong as we do, white stains.  And in no time flat, that pretty white coffee maker you bought to match your pretty white toaster and your pretty white storage canisters and your pretty white dish-drain and your ugly white and mustard yellow Corelle plates is this gross, dirty, grimy off-white.

Off-white! Gah!

So as we stood in the aisle in WalMart, less than two feet away from a girl I’d written off years ago as someone I’d never see again, I quipped, “I think I’m going to get black this time.”

“Black? Why?” M asked.

“White always gets so dirty.”

“You have to wash black coffee makers, too, ya know.” J said.

“Huh?”

“Yeah.  They stain just as bad as white ones.”

“Really? That’s weird.  I figured it wouldn’t show up as much cause it’s… you know… black.”

“Nah.  They stain just as bad.”

“Uh… huh.  Well, I think I’ll give it a shot anyway.”

That wasn’t what ended the conversation.  What ended the conversation was J introducing me to my ex-fuck-buddy’s fiance and then realizing he was my fuck-buddy when they started dating.  And remained my fuck-buddy well into their relationship.  Cause no one ever told me he was seeing anyone.  Not even J.  And the girl is J’s best friend.

As in, I found out that day in WalMart.  Seven years later.  O.o

Anyway…  J was wrong.  Black does not stain as bad as white.  I am the worst about forgetting, in the time it takes to walk from the kitchen to M’s office (which is about ten steps, all told) and deposit His mug on His desk, I spilled coffee that needs to be wiped up.  And a year later, my black coffee maker is still… You guessed it! Black! Yay!

And my new black coffee maker came with a washable coffee filter.  All black and gold and pretty.  Unless it breaks, I never have to buy paper filters again! Right? Right.

Except, when we got home from Thanksgiving shopping, Master said, “Oh shoot.  I was going to buy a new coffee filter.”

I canted my head a little and peered at Him through curious slits and asked, “A new filter? Oh.  You mean the carbon cartridge?” Because my stain-free black coffee maker also has a water filter that goes in the back.

“Well, that, too, but I was thinking about getting a new filter.”

My eyes narrowed further.  “Why do we need a new coffee filter?”

“Well, it is getting old.”

“Yes, but it still works.”

“I just think we need a new one.”

“So… Let me get this straight.  You, who have probably made ten pots of coffee in seven years, none of which have been with the new pot, know better than I when we need a new coffee filter?”

“Yep.”

Well, okay then.

Those are my coffee stories for the week.  Tell me yours!