I banged on the door. “Hurry up! I have to get to work!” “I’ll be right out!” I stood there fuming and counting the seconds ticking by. After three hundred and fifty-two of them, I heard the water turn off. Another one hundred and ninety-six seconds later, and the door opened. “You’re going to make me late,” I snapped. “I need to shower and get ready for work.” Mia stared at me. “But . . . you don’t have to be at work for an hour.” “Yes, but I still need to make my coffee, eat breakfast, and read the paper.” “Did you make the coffee yet?” “No. I make the coffee after I shower. Not before.” More staring. “Are you done in there or not?” I said impatiently. “Yeah, sure, I’m done.” We exchanged places. “I’ll just go make the coffee.” I yanked the almost-closed door back open. “Fill the coffeepot with the distilled water, not tap water, to the number ten line. The coffee is in the freezer. Use five rounded spoons—and I mean rounded, not heaping.
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