You know you’ve turned the corner from a hot, young thang to an AARP discount-loving Weeble when the most exciting thing to happen to you is that you switch from drinking coffee 24/7 to sipping black tea in a mug that a toddler painted fifteen years ago that looks like Woody from Toy Story met Jack the Ripper. 😈
(If you don’t know what a Weeble is, watch this vintage commercial. And also, are you old enough to read this newsletter?)
I drink a lot of coffee. ☕ When I say a lot of coffee, picture Ron Swanson eating breakfast. 🍳🍖🍳🍖🍳
However, there’s a tea and herbal shop in A Bitter Swill to Swallow, and its owner plays a very important role. I visited a tea shop recently and purchased far more than I had planned to.
I would have liked to have browsed more, smelled more blends, taken in the ambiance, but the blasted owner followed me through the store like a yapping Chihuahua begging for a biscuit. She talked incessantly. 👄 When I asked her questions about her business, her answers were as unhelpful as a dad at a PTA meeting. (Sorry if you’re one of the exceptions. And if you are, recruit the other dads and train them up.)
But when I drank a cup of the tea, purchased with my money and my resentment, it was refreshing, cozy. It changed my mood. It perked up my day. Literally, because I made the mistake of drinking it mid-afternoon and only slept five hours that night and kept going all the next day like a roller derby queen. 😵 Lesson learned.
Now, I’m a part-time tea drinker. I especially like drinking it while I’m writing this book in particular because I feel more connected to it, much like drinking coffee made me feel more connected to Roadside Homicide and A Fatal Fumble.