The day I accidentally became Michael Scott.

Author’s note: Keep in mind that our upstairs heat is not working.

MIKE: It’s going to be cold in here in the morning.

KARI: You know what would be awesome?

MIKE: No.

KARI: If we got the coffeepot ready and then brought it up here so that, in the morning, we could turn it on while we were still in bed. Hot coffee while we’re still in bed!

MIKE: Really?

KARI: Yeah, what’s wrong with that?

MIKE: Sure, while we’re at it, why don’t we get a George Foreman up here? I enjoy having breakfast in bed. I like waking up to the smell of bacon, sue me.

KARI: That’s not really the same thing.

MIKE: Yes it is.

KARI: No, it’s . . . totally . . . different.

MIKE: No.

KARI: Oh my lord, I’m Michael Scott.

MIKE: Don’t expect me to help you when you burn your foot.

KARI: I will probably scald my hand on the coffeepot instead.

MIKE: I’ll have the plastic wrap ready.

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