COLOR-CODED COFFEE -- The Art Of Complicating The Simple

I´m determined to keep this simple. There I was, working at the computer:

I´d just installed the "upgrade" to a software program I´d been using for years. Great! Now my life would be simpler, easier, faster (would the advertisement lie?). I hadn´t been feeling particularly complicated, difficult or slow, but I´m not one to stand in the way of progress, except when it´s one smaller step for Man, and one teensy nudge for Mankind.

You don´t need to know why, when I´m doing my home budget spreadsheets, that I use green and yellow background colors to separate my accounts receivables from accounts payables (an ever-widening gap that has become so far apart of late, I´m thinking of merging with myself). My version of line-item accountancy resembles what happens when you combine a calculator and a pinball machine.

I´ve even thought of cutting my own bonuses this year, even though I know I´m the most valuable asset sitting in this chair. Honestly, even with my poor handling of the money passing through this house, how can I expect me to stick around if I don´t give myself some handsome incentives? Get real. If I want quality incompetence, I´ve got to pay for it.

There I was, armed with my snazzy new software, when I noticed that my green & yellow background highlights looked funny. Something wasn´t right. Instead of the bright, primary colors I´d long been accustomed to, the defaults on the screen were dull and flat.

Where were my radiant visual cues telling me at a glance how little I had versus how much I could expect? These were now to be my lush-lawn green invoices? My brilliant canary yellow overdrafts? I clicked on the fill-selector tab and saw why:

The makers of this "simpler, easier, faster" version of my beloved cyber-bookkeeper decided that its mere green and yellow primary colors just won´t do. Now, in order to simplify, smooth out and speed up my life, I apparently must have half a dozen shades each, of both. Separately. They´ve turned my simple, beautiful, vibrant backgrounds into the same ho-hum spectrum as our faded and fading fleet of American cars.

Green? HA! Yes, there´s still a plain old original "green" selection but it now looks like a bad Granny Smith (you´ll just have to sort that out for yourselves). Trouble is, not only are there six additional defined variations of "green," I´m also free to invent my own. No!

I can now drag my "green" palette brush cursor-thingie into an encroaching red zone, or tip it into a blurry blue tidal graph and come up with … with … well, a green color that we in the rural regions would say: "looks like a blue mailbox painted brown."

Now, hold it. Before the variety-is-the-spice-of-life people all send me the same e-mail, please don´t get me wrong. I´m a big fan of nuance. I love variety. I love spices. I love a variety of spices. But, does EVERYTHING we do and have in this life lately need to be androgynized, anesthetized, overanalyzed, re-, up-, down-, over-, and/or under-super-sized?

I understand: there may not be much of anything left these days well-enough to leave alone, but we should try. Change is not art, and should never be done just for its own sake. When American businessman Bert Lance launched "If it ain´t broke, don´t fix it" into the lexicon, he forgot, "and if you´re a bored, color-blind, overpaid software designer, keep your metaphorical greenish chocolate out of B. Elwin Sherman´s green peanut butter."

Please, no more bleach in my finances, a dozen brands of flavored bottled water, 150 different kinds of the same cereal, or three grades of gasoline from the same tank (there´s your real conspiracy, my dear readers).

And, I don´t want or need my simply simple coffeepot to walk the dog or receive satellite radio. Right here I´d like to thank the company who made my current brewmaster. It´s been on duty in this house for years: Directions? Put in the coffee. Put in the water. Turn the ON/OFF switch to ON. Wait. Pour. Drink. Turn the ON/OFF switch to OFF. Thank you. Good morning.

I´m dreading the day the thing breaks. Will I be able to call the appliance repair guy? Sure. His shop is right there next to ye olde stagecoach wheelwright shoppe, across the street from the spittoon polisher.

How about if I try fixing it myself? Absolutely, if I don´t mind firemen running through the house.

What, then? I´d better check and see if the same company today makes the same coffeemaker. Be right back.

Hooray! It´s still there … almost. Today´s bottom-of-the-line model has an added "programmable brew timer, because an active lifestyle like yours can´t have coffee delays!" Yes, as I spend my days redefining the color of money, I mustn´t waste any of that time waiting for coffee.

What´s the good news in all these complicated simplifications? My simpler, easier, faster coffeemaker is offered in two colors: black or white.

Personally, I´d prefer a different shade of greenish yellow.

Syndicated humor columnist B. Elwin Sherman writes simply in color from upstate NH. Copyright 2009 B. Elwin Sherman. All rights reserved. Used here with permission. This column is protected by intellectual property laws, including U.S. copyright laws. Electronic or print reproduction, adaptation, or distribution without permission is prohibited. Ordinary internet links to this column at his Humorist-On-Loan blog may be distributed without written permission.