I analyzed the amount of ground coffee left and then contemplated grinding more. But, I did not feel like grinding more. I would have to find a pot small enough, yet big enough.
I felt like Goldilocks .
This pot's too big.
This pot's too small.
This pot's just right.
While the coffee came up, I remembered that the pot I had chosen had a stiff hinge which would make lifting the lid to survey progress challenging. I'd have to rely on instinct. It was with great relief that I found said instinct unimpaired, and I pulled the pot from the flame at just the right moment.
As I poured the hot liquid over a bit of milk in the tiniest of mugs, I heard the faintest of stirrings upstairs.