We have a coffee maker that is one of those carafe-pot kind, that is basically thermos. It keeps the coffee warm by retaining the heat, not by constantly adding heat. Sometimes there is enough coffee left over to use the next morning. When Mistress K. discovered I was using that coffee the next day, she flat told me that any coffee I served had better be freshly brewed, that morning because it tastes better.
We've warmly debated the premise leading to her decision (never her decision) to require that I only serve her freshly brewed coffee, and last night was one of those times. It was fun and just a few comments, but I had told her that I was going to have two cups prepared for her this morning, one from the day before, and one freshly brewed, to see if she could tell the difference.
In the quiet darkness of the early morning, it occurred to me ... who am I to challenge the desire, the preference of my Mistress? I mean really ... what good cold possibly come from me being able to prove that she couldn't tell the difference between fresh coffee and day-old coffee? My Mistress should not have to explain herself or even engage in a debate about something as trivial as how she prefers her coffee. Mine is not to question her motives or desires. Ever!
When I heard the alarm go off this morning, summoning Mistress from her slumber, I entered the room with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, prepared exactly how she likes it. I leaned in to kiss her like I always and then I apologized for not just yielding to her desire for fresh coffee without raising some bullshit theory.
To her, it was no big deal. No big deal at all ... and frankly to me it wasn't either. It was just one of those little, harmless battles that married vanilla people engage in from time to time. Only ..... we aren't vanilla married people and it is not my place to question her preference. Even for something as simple as coffee.