Awakened, as usual, at the crack of dawn on a Saturday by my three-year-old. Oh, how I love the feeling of being jolted awake by a small hand slapping my cheek, followed by a loud voice saying “Mommy! It’s morning time, wake up!” As if anyone could sleep through my human alarm. I roll over, see the ungodly hour as I try to get a little stretch in before I drag my half awake body out of bed. She is already at the top of the steps, and she yells “Mom COME ON! I have to go peepee!!! Right NOW!”. She is at a halt by the locked gate – yes, we still have four gates at various points throughout the house, all of which you must go through to get to the bathroom – “Ok, I’m coming!” I lurch up and start grabbing the armload of ‘necessities’ that will most certainly be inventoried by the Tiny Human doing the Pee Dance. So, once I’ve granted her passage through all four gates, she is on her way to sweet bladder freedom. I then begin my day the way I do every morning: coffee. Coffee, that rich, dark, hot liquid that means the difference between half alive and half dead. I grab my mug – base coated in ‘Unicorn Tears’ with Deadpool riding a unicorn on the front and ‘Mommy’ scribbled in saccharine sweet font on the back – and see that once again the Keurig reservoir is empty, imagine that. Just like Every. Other. Time. I. Use. It. I swear, no one else is capable of grabbing it, filling it with water and walking *maybe* four feet across our tiny kitchen floor to give the poor, thirsty, Keurig a drink. The very same Keurig who does so much for the betterment or our humanoid day, and we can’t even manage to keep it hydrated. As I pour in 32oz of Keurig lifeforce, its tiny LCD face tells me its ready to brew. I begin a little morning “chit-chat” with my good old friend the Keurig (who, by the way, happens to be a Brit, so feel free to read his dialogue with that in mind)

Keurig: Ello, mornin to ya! I appreciate the fill up. Now, let’s get on with it then. Usual today? 10oz, Strong?

Me: Oh, you know me too well! You’re rather chipper this morning, hopefully this little mug of joy will get me ready to face the day.

Keurig: I’ll do what I can, Love.

Me: You know, I think we need to hook you up with your very own water line, this reservoir just isn’t cutting it anymore. Particularly when no one deigns to fill it. I have an idea, your own designated water line. Yes, right into the back, you’d never be thirsty again!

Keurig: I must admit that sounds quite lovely….

Then I go back to talking to myself again. Why couldn’t the Keurig have his own dedicated water line? I mean, the refrigerator has one to make ice, which holds nowhere near the importance than the Keurig does, it literally gives us LIFE! Oh Google…..have you found a way? 

By the Author: MadRabbitQueen


  1. Your compassion is infectious. I used to give humanity to my inanimate objects because they really do so much for us! And your Keurig is so incredibly well mannered, unlike so many Starbucks “baristas”. Give the poor thing it’s own line, you monster!!!😭

    Liked by 2 people

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