Coffee

I can never seem to properly estimate the amount of water to pour into the coffee maker. Nine times out of ten, I significantly over do it, leaving a least a good two cups to go to waste.

That left over coffee sits in the pot, eagerly waiting for its time to be enjoyed, but alas, it habitually gets poured down the drain the next time I start a fresh pot.

Perhaps it’s that I subconsciously wait for the day when a fellow coffee drinker will walk into the kitchen and say “Thanks for the coffee, dear”, pick up his cup and join me for a cuppa joe as we sit and laugh over a joke only we understand.

Or maybe I’m just really bad at guesstimating how much water to use (this also applies when making oatmeal).

As I walked downstairs this morning and saw yesterday’s gloomy, leftover coffee stare at me, I hesitated. I knew that no one would be joining me, not today anyways.  I sympathetically said “Fear not, stale coffee, today you will have a purpose”.

I poured the old coffee into a shallow dish, picked up a paintbrush and we sat down at the table together.

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The process I used for this was dripping the coffee onto the paper over and over… and over to build layers of color. The 4 day continual process has indeed been a lesson in patience.