Paul is at home. In Austin. And we are all four still here. In Ireland.
I am sad.
This morning I came downstairs to make my coffee and just wish that I had my Krups coffee maker set on a timer with the welcoming good morning sound of coffee brewing away. Instead I have to, in my sleepy stupor, do as I have done for 4 years now and:
- fill up the electric kettle with fresh water
- pop it on to make the boiling start
- monitor its progress because this kettle is crap and always pops up before it's finished
- fill the once quaint French press coffee maker with grounds—heaping tablespoons full
- wait for it…..
- pour boiling water over grounds, stir and press
- finally enjoy a cup of coffee; but only two because that's all you can make at one time.
Like John Travolta said in Pulp Fiction, 'it's the little differences'. Electric kettles, crappy dryers, no school bus, no school hot lunch, no drive-thru pharmacy or fast food or bank, needing a euro for a grocery cart, xenophobic neighbor, expensive marshmallows and no Velveeta!
Ok, the coffee has kicked in. I feel better. Paul is still in Austin but I guess he is sad like he says. It's his birthday tomorrow and he'll be alone, he has to sit in meetings all day, he's jetlagged. But, he does get to eat some Tex-Mex, go through the Wendy's drive thru if he likes, feel the warm fall air through the open car window and get his free birthday pitcher of beer at the Crown.