The Brew that Wasn't.


I’d make myself a cup of tea, but I’ve lost my last teabag.

I was primed and ready to go, walking from mine and Glyn’s office to the communal kitchen, mug and teabag in hand, when I spotted someone from another office already in there, using the kettle. Because I’m incapable of social interaction, I ran back to my office and hid. You wouldn’t think I was a functioning adult. It’s a miracle that I can dress myself.

Fleeing was my first mistake. As I hurtled back to the safety of the office, limbs flailing in every direction, I briefly lost control of my basic motor skills. I had a tiny mental blackout. I know I put the teabag down in those few blank seconds, but I’ll be buggered if I can remember where.

(I'm not saying I want to be bummed if I find it.)

I was looking forward to my cup of camomile and honey tea. It would have put me in a suitably relaxed mental state. I would have written a better blog post then too. NOTE TO SELF: don’t be afraid of people making hot drinks.

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