2 Urns 1 Cup

Thirty minutes before the Van Gogh closed today, I gave up on the crosswords. That's the NYT syndicated in the PI and the NYT itself. I was totally bitch-slapped. Heading to the coffee bar to refill my last drip coffee, one urn bubbled and spat the bottom of the pot. Refusing to give up and not leaving without a full cup of coffee, I headed to the other... the "French Roast". Not quite the even close competitor to its superior neighbor the "Sumatra", always my first choice. I pushed down on The Thing. Groaning, it gave easy evidence that, this too, would be expelled of all its sweet delicious nectar in the next few moments. A few more presses. The cup almost full.

Few more. Sputter. Spat.

The cup almost teeming. The percolator gave its final hurrah, the last ounce or so splashing.

I let out a small cry of victory careful not making myself a spectacle. No throwing both arms up in victory or anything, but just enough to let the two people in the cafe that I was triumphant. I grabbed the coffee pot and set it behind the danish tray.

"All done, huh?" The blond behind the counter asked. Presumably rhetorically.

"Two urns, one stone," I smiled. "Hasta luego."

I don't think she got it. But I thought it was totally awesome.