I have this kimono-type robe and, partly I think because I’m sleep deprived, I managed to tangle the wide armhole in the handle of the coffee carafe and pull it off the kitchen counter this morning. Too fast, but also in slow motion, the pot full of coffee full at my feet and shattered. I was stricken. As usual B had to leap into action, telling me where to move my bare feet and starting to sweep up the glass as I washed my feet and felt like crying. It was like a flashback to childhood. That uh-oh feeling. And I love that coffeemaker! I hope Phillips makes replacement carafes. She has mopped, I swept up the glass, and she’s vacuuming now. Thank god she loves me because sometimes I can’t stand myself.