My husband broke our coffee carafe.
It's not a big deal. We can buy a new one. It's kind of amazing this one survived so long-- ten years and a few months, to be exact, which I know because the coffee maker was a wedding present.
But we haven't made it to the store yet. And in the meantime, I got a real life lesson in point of view.
When the carafe is broken, my instinct is to make coffee a different way. Namely, our press pot. This makes sense to me.
Other people would make daily runs to Starbucks. Or the locally owned coffee shop that's a lot cooler. They'd drink tea. Or Red Bull. Or instant coffee (gag). Maybe they'd buy a whole new coffee maker, or give up coffee entirely.
You may have guessed that my husband did none of these things. He did this.
My reaction went like this:
1) "Oh my god, what is wrong with him?"
2) "That looks terrible."
3) "I can only imagine what [my mom/grandmother/mother-in-law/the other moms at my kids' school/the BFF/the male BFF/any number of other folks] would think."
4) "The coffee he made this morning tasted fine."
5) "He didn't even make a mess."
6) "Oh right. This is why I love him."
Because it really doesn't matter. He temporarily solved the problem in a manner I find odd. His thought process isn't the same as mine. But the end result was better than mine-- press pot coffee has grinds in the bottom-- and who cares what any number of people would think (especially considering they'd all think different things anyway?). That's why I love him. He makes me see things in a different way.
And that's kind of important. Especially as a writer.
How would your characters fix a coffee pot?