My Ten-Year-Old Self Gone Shopping

I almost bought a record last night. I was in bed, feeling off, out of balance, unsettled by new opportunities and possibilities. Good stuff but a lot to figure out and I get impatient. The ten-year-old within me says, "Buy something and our worries will go away!" I know better, but his voice is persistent and convincing. I've been listening to him a long, long time.

Earlier in the evening I was watching coffee videos on YouTube. Yes, there are coffee videos on YouTube. There are YouTube videos for nearly everything and what's not there is served somewhere else you may not want appearing in your search history. Anyway, my favorite coffee videos are by James Hoffman who is smart, funny, and produces stuff better than most anything on television.

Better for me at least.

My wife might argue the coffee videos are not terribly interesting and that I should watch Stranger Things, but I take the path less traveled which makes a lot less difference than I'd like to think.

Last night I watched Hoffman review the Niche Zero grinder. It's really something. I won't go too far into the weeds — spoilers! — but it's an Indiegogo project that actually ships and has satisfied backers, reviewers, and experts. Last night, I wanted one.

Have I mentioned it costs $651? That's not bad for an espresso grinder. I could spend a whole lot more and spending much less isn't worth doing. There's a $375 grinder that might work, but it's not nearly the Niche. Good tools make for good work and, in this case, great coffee.

I also want the Cafelat Robot, which Hoffman reviews using the Niche. The Robot is a $370 manual espresso machine meaning that the pressure necessary to making espresso is generated through arm strength applied to the arms of the machine. It's cool and retro looking, like the Jetson's butler, and follows the idea that good things like coffee should require some work.

Good thing I viewed this stuff with my wife in the house. I came close to purchasing both products, but how would I explain that to her?

I imagine it sounds as if I have to justify all purchases with my wife or I'll be in trouble. The ten-year-old in me thinks that, but we don't have quite that abusive of a relationship. I just don't want to appear foolish to her and were I to order these things on a whim, I'd be quite the fool. I already make excellent coffee. The Robot and Niche would be fun, but buying them covers up what's really going on with me which has everything to do with emotion, balance, and the ten-year-old inside me crying for a new toy.

I closed the computer. There are times for new toys and good reasons for them, but last night was not the time and I lacked good reasoning.

Later, in bed, still feeling out of balance, I got thinking about jazz guitarist Pat Metheny (as one does) and his album 80/81 which I want on vinyl. My turntable and records give me real pleasure and although I've spent well over the price of a Niche and Cafelat on them, the spending has been spread over three years which makes me feel better. I found 80/81 online for less than twenty dollars shipped and added it to my cart.

As I was about to complete the sale, I became aware of the feeling driving me furtive anxiety. When I was ten, I'd steal money out of my paper route or even Mom's purse to buy the things that might make me feel better and then lie about having done any of it. In bed last night, I felt the ten-year-old running the show.

Here's the part that interests me: I smiled.

I have a habit of not smiling about these things. I shove them down in the bottom of the trunk and close the lid. I try to deny feeling ten years old. But last night I smiled, shut the computer, turned out the light, and closed my eyes. Sleep didn't come for hours — I was still too far out of balance — but I was no longer desperate to buy a record, an espresso machine, or a grinder. I ruminated on other things than shopping my worries away. I didn't hear from the ten-year-old the rest of the night.

This morning I used my same old grinder. I boiled water and made a spectacular cup of coffee with the Aeropress I already own. I felt good doing it.

Later, in my car, I remembered that Metheny album and queued it up on my streaming service. As it began to play I said, "hang on," and opened the list of my records I keep on the phone. There it was: "Pat Metheny, 80/81." I bought it years ago. I smiled again and said, "it's okay. You're okay."

I drove across town to meet a friend at a coffee shop. "What are you working on," he asked before we got down to writing. "A couple blog posts and a longer piece," I said, but instead wrote this. If I had brought headphones, I know what album I'd have listened to.

I sipped good coffee while writing this. I heard the grinder and the espresso machine. If the coffee was better than what I brewed at home, I couldn't tell. My mind had moved into calmer waters. My friend sat across the table, typing. Looking around, I could find no sign of the ten-year-old and all his anxious desires.