She can burn tea. I kid you not. Putting our heads together and looking at calenders, she's cooked eleven meals in fifteen years.
She's as uncomfortable alone in the kitchen as she is in being asked to find something in my purse. Okay, lately it's morphed into a bookbag.
Pod coffee is a little better than Hills Bros, I suppose; and they're gaining in popularity in the highrise office buildings downtown, by her account.
But I've waited on her everyday; making her espresso isn't going to be an added chore of any significance.