Nick does not have what I term a grown up coffeemaker—that is, one that makes entire pots of coffee at the push of a button, quite literally. Instead, Nick owns one of these, which makes sense for the occasional coffee sipper in Nick. That being said, I see the usefulness in this single cup brewer for after-dinner coffees, for mid afternoon coffees, and even for the occasional I'm-bored-might-as-well-drink-coffee coffees. But, coming from an individual who can easily finish two pots on her own, the little red Melitta doesn't quite stand up to the morning-Laura's demands, and I find myself brewing cup after cup after cup...after cup.

Yesterday was cleaning day for the anti-coffee-chugging activist—who used to watch me drink coffee and chant, "BREATH! SIP!"—and his collection of bathroom magazines were thoroughly combed through. Of the stacks of Maxim, there was a single People magazine. Cheap or not, I am rather fond of leafing through People magazine. Dated May of 2005, this old issue belongs to the dark periods of my popless-culture existence—my time in the South offered other experiences...like fried pickles—I'm clawin' mah wah-ay back out to the light, boh-ay, but it ain't easy.

I was looking through the magazine this morning while my third cup of coffee drizzled into the mug. Suddenly, I was flummoxed: when did Rob Thomas stop singing with Matchbox 20? Puffs of smoke billowed from beneath my hands as I feverishly searched for more information...seriously? Rob Thomas exists outside of Matchbox 20? Like his own entity or something? My forehead began to throb as the confusion took hold and my scowl line split my brow. Nick chuckled.

I looked his way sharply, intense on the subject of my find. "I think this is a record," he smirked. What the heck? What's he making fun of me for now? Nick is a serial teaser, you see. He could find a way to play with your mind on the subject of your flossing form if you were stupid enough to let him see you floss. My gaze unfaltering, I watched his eyes shift briefly in the direction of the coffeemaker before returning to me. "I think that's the first time a cup of coffee has waited for you."



(By the way, did you know that Michelle Williams is pregnant with Heath Ledger's baby!?)

Nick's looking into joining a gym. We're sitting together on his couch while he leafs through a packet sent from the local community center. There is a new workout facility opening in Waunakee, you see, and his curiosity is piqued. "See the problem is, I'm just not motivated to go workout," he tells me. Well yes, that would be a problem, particularly when one considers joining a gym.

"I mean, money isn't a motivator," he continues. I look at him curiously...how does physical fitness inspire money? Seriously, tell me. I want to know—hell, sign me up! He explains, "I mean the, 'I paid a lot of money for a membership, I should use it' thing. Doesn't work for me." Ah. Not the explanation I was hoping for, but it made sense. For Nick.

"Because," I was enjoying the way he talked himself through his decision. He does this often. He's a champion analyzer, and his logic makes me weak-kneed. I love a common-sensical man. He squinted, as though what he was about to say would cause great discomfort and widespread comprehension both. I waited on bated breath for the conclusion while he chose his words carefully.

"Because, I paid a lot of money for this couch too," I began to squint in confusion now...until I saw his eyes begin to twinkle. "And I paid a lot of money for my TV too." Synchronized, we turned our heads toward the 42" rear projection high definition TV from our lofty position on his leather couch, and my laugh gurgled first, then gushed. He looked so serious, so down-to-business.



And, you really can't argue with his logic.