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.