I realize that the last time I wrote an entry my excuse for not writing was that I’d been sick. This time, I’m writing because I’m sick and it doesn’t seem to be over yet. Before that, I was just uninspired. But I’ve realized that having no immune system means that I have a lot of adventures that most normal humans just don’t get to have. So I felt obligated to share with you. See, normal people have a degree of coordination and mental clarity that allow them to navigate the world relatively unscathed by things like tea and wine racks and door frames. I’m not one of those people.
I’ve had a chest cold that leads me to cough inexorably for the vast majority of the time I’m awake — which isn’t much until the last few days. And I wanted hot tea. Hot tea is good for me because of REASONS and also SCIENCE. Apart from that, I happened to have some rather good tea that I wanted to use and I’ve successfully made tea on a number of occasions in the past. This was not to be one of those times.
Things started as per usual. I selected my tea — a Teavana blend, cocoa praline tart — and my mug. While I might have been tempting the tea gods by trying a loose tea with an addled brain, I did at least use a standard mug. It wasn’t like I was trying to figure out the proper proportions of tea to, say, this thing:
This is apparently a “fuddler mug” or something. Wikipedia gave me lots of bizarre mugs to choose from, but they were all substantially more boring than this one. But I didn’t use a fuddler mug. I just used a normal, standard, thrown clay mug with a smiley face on it because I’m 32 and sometimes I need tea in a smiley face mug. Don’t judge me.
Anyway, what I wound up with was something like vaguely chocolate gravel with lumps of something not-quite-milk. My tea ball infuser apparently failed at its job, too, so we sat together in shame for a while. After I recovered (though I think the tea ball will need therapy), I mixed up a faux lime soda instead. Originally, I told twitter I “engineered” faux lime soda because saying I engineered something made me feel marginally less stupid.
And now if you’ll excuse me, my sore throat, lack of voice and abundance of snot are going to sit over here and figure out whether I still qualify as a human if I’m 37% phlegm. I’ll be drowning my sorrows in faux lime soda.
My dog has been useless. Sarah’s dog is understandably traumatized, apparently, and has PTSD of Labradorian proportions. My dog is just a sad cocker spaniel. I think perhaps she fell prey to a brain-commandeering alien squad of sorts when I wasn’t looking, so it’s probably my fault she’s no use. Also, she has no thumbs. Lack of opposable thumbs makes one rather useless as a nursemaid.
If I were you, I’d go disinfect your eyeballs after reading this. Just in case.