Coffee! Part II

I've written before about how much I love coffee, but now things are different. Now things are very, very different.

Now, sitting on my kitchen counter, is a little used-to-the-point-of-abuse coffeemaker. My very own coffeemaker! I can now make coffee for myself whenever, whyever, and however I want!

Of course you're now wondering how I managed to smuggle it into my house, how I'm able to use it without my mom noticing, or how I managed to buy it since I have, you know, no job and no income.

Well, my mom bought it for me. She helped me pick it out, she purchased it, and she lets it sit there, filling the house with the delicious smell of brewing coffee while she takes my brother to seminary in the morning.

... and, really, I can't think of a more potent symbol of tolerance than that — she takes my brother to seminary to the smell of coffee brewing for her ex-Mormon Atheist son. Coffee! Is there anything more indicative of worldliness than a coffeemaker?

But in light of all the stories about outed Atheists who get evicted from their homes, constantly harassed by the missionaries and the bishopric, and in light of an especially moving post over at the Loathsome Joy, I'm now made harshly aware of something:

I can't complain. At all.

I may take issue with their ridiculous beliefs; I may take issue with their homophobic voting tendencies; I may take issue with their blatant and infuriating compartmentalization, their mental tap dancing, and their preference for comfortable beliefs over accurate ones — but I'm twenty-two and still living there, I have my own room, my own computer, they let me do my thing, and I have a coffeemaker in the kitchen.

I have a goddamned coffeemaker in my kitchen.