Waking to the smell of fresh coffee

I am now officially spoiled rotten. A few months after Andrew and I started dating, we ended up spending every night together, either at his house or mine. At first, we'd take turns making coffee. But now it has somehow come about that every morning the alarm goes off, Andrew gets up, feeds the cat, and makes coffee. Then he brings it to me in bed, allowing me another fifteen minutes of sleep. This is wonderful, and I am properly grateful about this turn of events.

It does mean, however, that on the days when he must go in much earlier than me, that there is no one to make coffee. And I find that I'm just sort of out of the habit, and what happens is that instead of making it myself, I stumble blearily into school, remaining sleepy and grumpy, until I finally relent, walk up the hill to the student union, and buy coffee. Today I made it until noon, but by then I was rather unpleasant.

I think I need one of those coffee pots with a clock, that can be set to start brewing right as you wake up. Unfortunately, though, I think they don't come in a french press style, and drip coffee won't cut it. It's not chewy enough.