It’s Sunday morning, and I’m enjoying the wafting aroma of a freshly brewed coffee…a Puerto Rican bean, if I’m not mistaken. The New York Times technology section is folded neatly so I can hold it with one hand while sipping coffee with the other. I’m at my small bistro table that seats two, but only has one occupant this lazy morning. From my balcony on the 27th floor, I can watch the early risers set out to gather their pastries, coffee and newspapers. Slow traffic and tweeting birds are creating a pleasant ambient sound that makes David Pogue’s latest column that much more interesting.
Wait…wrong guy.
Actually, my two kids are hounding me for breakfast. Pancakes with lots of syrup have become too much of a morning staple. Somehow the syrup has aquired a tiny hole in the bottom of the bottle, so it’s home has become our kitchen sink. The only coffee brewing comes from our single cup Keurig machine which makes a sound like a cappuccino maker, but isn’t even close in satisfaction. The TV is the living room is playing HorseLand, or is it Spiderman, and the kids are now chirping about more juice…