Dear Mr. Keurig,
I think you are wonderful. I think you were put on this earth just for me. You patiently wait for me each morning, with blue lights in your eyes, wondering when I will emerge from the dark abyss of my room.
You never back talk. And never tell me my butt looks fat.
The moment my eyes open, I look forward to walking down the dark hallway each morning with your blue lights guiding my way.
I wonder if it will be a Wild Blueberry, French Vanilla, or good ol’ Donut House kind of day.
And then I must decide between English Almond Toffee, White Chocolate Mocha, or Vanilla Caramel…the choices are endless.
My favorite green and white polka Irish mug waits each morning to be filled with pure joy. She is faithful to you, Mr. Keurig, because I rescued her from a Home Goods “After St. Paddy’s” discount shelf for 50 cents. She was distraught…and you have given her a wonderful home on your silver shelf.
I remember the days of $6 cups of coffee. I cringe at the thought of ever cheating on you with a fancy coffeehouse latte. I give those gift cards away because their coffee doesn’t compare to yours.
I appreciate you. I love you.
And I have clearly gone off the deep end. Please send help.