Don’t use my coffee pot please

Let’s get this Breed

Kaitlynn Breeden, Staff Writer

Saturday morning. It’s bittersweet. You can sleep in, but you wake up dealing with the repercussions of Friday night. My repercussions included guilt from texting my ex-boyfriend. Typically, Saturday is my favorite day of the week. I don’t have class, and I don’t have to leave my dorm. If both of my roommates decide to go home for the weekend, my “morning” usually doesn’t start until 12 p.m.

This Saturday I woke up right on time at 11:55 a.m. As soon as I woke up I already felt like it would be a good day. I slept great, no one was home to wake me up early, and I was still texting my ex-boyfriend. What could go wrong? Literally everything.

Fun fact about me actually, I love coffee. Doesn’t matter what kind of coffee it is, I’ll drink it. Black coffee, lattes, frappuccino’s, straight shots of espresso, seriously it doesn’t matter.

I love it, but I go most of the week without drinking it, because I’m usually running late. On Saturday I have nowhere to be, so I like to make coffee.

Speaking of my roommates, I have two roommates, who I love dearly. Rylee, one of my roommates, is also known in our group as “the rat.” Even though she does have long brown hair and brown eyes, that’s not why we call her a rat. It’s more about her habits. Our dear, sweet, friend Rylee is incapable of cleaning literally anything. She washes her dishes which is great, but that’s pretty much it.

Rylee also likes coffee, which is where this story begins. Rylee used my coffee pot two weeks ago before her 9 a.m. class and graciously didn’t wash out the coffee pot when she was done. Sarah, also my roommate, told me to leave it there as an experiment to see if Rylee would wash it out. So funny story, a week went by and she didn’t wash it out. I caved and washed it out, because I couldn’t handle it being there.

So, at 12 p.m. on Saturday, when it felt like a good time to get out of bed, I put on my slippers and walked over to my saving grace. I grabbed the coffee pot and took it over to the sink to fill it up with water (I don’t live the Keurig lifestyle, I’m not financially doing the best.)

For those of us who still have regular coffee makers, I fill mine up in-between the four and six lines, because it’s not too much so I still consider it to be “chuggable,” but it’s enough that I can drink it over the course of an hour or two if you want to.

Now when you make coffee you need two things, well three. Water, a coffee filter, and coffee. It didn’t ever occur to me that since Rylee didn’t wash out the coffee pot, that she probably left the filter in there as well.

So, I go to put coffee in a filter and pour the water in, right? I open the lid and dead ass there’s an old coffee filter that Rylee left in there for so long that it created MOLD. Mold is one of the biggest things that makes me want to vomit. The coffee filter is fuzzy like the inside of a build-a-bear when it definitely shouldn’t be.

Since I was home alone, this proved to be a “choose your own adventure” situation. I could choose to throw it away, or I could choose to leave it and avoid catching something and let it eat away at my conscious.

I decided if the rat wouldn’t do it, I would take one for the team and throw it away. During a minor mental breakdown, I picked it up with two paper towels and sprinted across the room to throw it away. Afterwards, I sat on the couch and contemplated the panic attack I was having about if I could still make coffee. Sarah’s mom told me how to clean it, so I did still get to enjoy my Saturday morning coffee.

However, I haven’t figured out how to confront Rylee about it, because she can’t take me seriously when I’m mad. I decided this is how I would tell her. So, Rylee, f*** you rat you’re not allowed to use my coffee pot anymore.