Seems like a ghost was trying to get my attention by using my coffeemaker.

It (coffeemaker, not ghost) keeps me from burning the house down: it has a two-hour automatic off. When I want to turn the coffeemaker off myself, I can -- up to one hour and 59 minutes from the time I made coffee. At the two-hour mark, the coffeemaker shuts off by itself. Except in the past ... month or so? ... the coffeemaker started turning off sooner.

It started by turning off after an hour. Then it moved that up to between my first and second cups of coffee. ("Aw, dang, my coffee's cold.") The past few times I'd set the machine up, turn it on, and go brush my teeth or something. When I'd get back, the coffee would be made but the machine would be off.

At first I grouched to myself, thinking I'd have to buy my fourth coffeemaker in four months. (Nothing spooky -- the first one flat-out broke almost immediately and the second one didn't have a timer.)

Then one morning while once again staring unhappily at the no-longer-glowing LED on the on-off switch, I thought "Wait, my sister had this problem too." So I did what she did, although I was more polite about it. I looked around me and said

"H ... hello? Um, are you there? Listen. Uh, if you're turning the coffeemaker off, please don't. I know you're here. I really need my coffee in the morning. Could you leave the machine on, please? Thank you."

I poured myself a cup of coffee and added "Welcome. Uh, well, you were here before me ... so I didn't mean 'welcome,' I meant im glad to have you here, uh, well, no, um, anyway." Feeling like an idiot, i sat down and drank my coffee.

The next morning the coffeemaker was on. I happily poured myself a cup of coffee, then caught myself. "Hey, this is great! Thanks."

Morning after that, the moment I saw the green light I called "I really appreciate it, thank you!"

This morning there was a lot of snow. I poured myself a cup and said "This is really nice. I appreciate it. Hey, does the cold bother you?"

... I can see myself in 30 years being a batty old lady in a floral-print gown, nodding and chattering cheerfully across the table to an empty plate, mug, and glass on a placemat.

But I really wonder what happens if I stop saying "Thanks." Will whatever-it-is get mad? And also I really wonder how I managed to turn an elegant solution to a problem into a thirty-year burden of politeness.