— Los Angeles, California
Upon returning from Buenos Aires, we’ve had the good fortune to be able to spend the holidays in our own home, in between the departure of some sublettors and the return of our original renters. It’s been interesting to live in a house whose contents we liquidated prior to our departure, now filled with someone else’s stuff. Not bad, mind you – our renter has quite nice things.
One of those quite nice things is a Nespresso maker (which by the way is advertised by George Clooney abroad – not sure if they air in the U.S.). I’ve opted to use the French press instead, but one luxury in which I have indulged is the milk frother that comes with the Nespresso machine. Have you seen this contraption? It’s sort of like a thermos with a wire whisk in the bottom, and you simply press a button and a minute later the milk is heated and foamy, ready to pour.
After living the past 15 months with only what we could pack in a few suitcases as we traveled, the idea of having an appliance solely dedicated to the function of frothing milk at the touch of a button seems like the height of first world convenience and entitlement.
I’m not saying I don’t like it.