Requiescat in pace, coffe maker.
Sometime over the weekend I managed an incredible feat of physics, the likes of which only seems to happen to me. Like the time I broke my toe by barely knocking it on the side of the desk chair at my Traditions apartment. Or the time, while lightly dusting a bookshelf, I managed to wedge my finger against the shelf in such a way that a big chunk of it got sliced off. Pretty awesome. Anyway, while rinsing out the coffee pot, it sort of barely touched the side of the sink, and grew one perfect round hole about the size of a pin-head, from which was a pretty impressive halo of radiating spider-webby cracks. Yeah, I just mixed my angel and arachnid metaphors. Deal with it. Anyway, today I got home from class and decided it was not okay not to have a coffeemaker. I went and bought one, and then spent the next chunk of too-much-time cleaning the apartment. I find that when I procrastinate, one of the first things I do is spend copious amounts of time on the Internet. Next, I clean the...