Super hot coffee

I of all people can appreciate wanting a cup of hot coffee in the morning. It's as American as apple pie, right? Yet I do believe some folks can take it too far.
A good buddy of mine, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, thinks that programmable coffee makers as innovations are right up there with sliced bread. As a percolator man myself, I'll take his word on that. Anyway, he likes that he can have freshly made coffee the instant he gets up every morning. Fair enough.
He also likes microwaves; we all know how convenient they are. But what he really likes is that he can pour a hot cup of joe from his programmable coffee maker and put that cup into the microwave for another two minutes so that it gets really hot.
That's too much for me. I'm not big on piping hot anything. So far as I'm concerned, whether on food or drink, you aren't tasting anything after a point. You're only feeling the sensation of intense heat. It's like when you take of a bite of a bratwurst too quickly off the grill and all the boiling juices burst inside your mouth. You aren't tasting the food, you're feeling the burn. In the case of Cloyce's coffee, we're talking searing, flesh burning hot that way I see it.
I suppose that if that's what he likes, so be it. But I sure don't see the point.

Jealous percolators

I did something I never thought I'd do. I bought a Keurig. You know, one of those one cup at a time coffee makers. It was second hand, from a flea market. Fifteen bucks. I figured I'd use it at the Shop. The thing is though, I've always brewed my coffee. I even only use a drip coffee maker when I'm up north, and only because it's what we've got there. My percolator never knew. But she knows about the Keurig. Even I feel like I'm cheating on her, the coffee pot I've used at home for almost 38 years now.

I think she thinks I'm cheating on her too. When I took the Keurig into the kitchen for a thorough cleaning before use, I swear I heard an 'a-hem'.

"It, it's only for the Shop," I explained, stammering. Still, I felt the icy, cold stare.

"We don't have a stove at the Shop." That defense, I am not making this up, was met by an accusatory raised eyebrow.

I tried further, "Oh, you don't want to be in that dirty old workshop anyway." She was unconvinced, and seemed to grow colder. More distant.

"Look, you'll always be the one for me. I just had to try something different. Just for work." That certainly didn't have the hoped for effect.

So now I lay awake nights fearing reprisal. Percolators aren't actually jealous sorts. Are they?