I originally sent this letter a couple of weeks ago under trying circumstances. I've not heard back from the probably very busy people to whom I sent it, but I thought perhaps if anyone else were trolling the Internet morosely, covered in foam, perhaps that person might take comfort in knowing that he or she was not alone.
Hello there, nice person at Stone Haven Group:
I just cleaned up my kitchen. That’s probably a good thing in general, although I would have preferred to have done it at leisure and not in my pyjamas. But, you see, there was hot milk and coffee all over the walls and the floors and underneath the stove and the dog was getting into it and, believe you me, the very last thing a girl needs three days before Christmas is a giant coonhound all buzzed out on Italian caffeine.
My Mukka doesn’t work. I just have to tell someone. It either produces lukewarm cappuccino, dribbles the water down the sides (despite my having rubbed a little oil into the grooves as suggested by a consumer site), or explodes dramatically—which, while fun to watch, doesn’t result in my dream life of sitting quietly with a glorious hot beverage while reading the paper. I have a PhD, albeit not in rocket science, and I feel I am essentially clever enough to be able to do this thing, this making cappuccino thing, and yet it never works. I’ve concluded there is a magic trick involved that I am not performing. If you know what it is, or know who I can talk to about it, I would be willing to learn an ancient language, or conduct furious hand gestures, or whatever it might take. I am at That Point.
Wishing you a lovely and non-dramatic holiday season,