I come home, I turn the kettle on. Through the front door, into the kitchen, boil water, first thing. I pour a big pot of tea. I drink it down, and turn the kettle back on for the next pot. I burn my mouth on average three or four times a day on the enchanting liquid. Green tea, black tea, fruit tea. I boil ginger and drink it with honey. I knock back hot water with lemon. Next pot, keep the kettle simmering. The windows fog up, the air is thick, the mirrors are steamy.
What is with this obsession for consuming things? If I don’t keep myself full of tea, I’m liable to turn to worse things. Chocolate things. Crispy, salty things. Alcoholic things. So, tea it is. It’s not necessarily bad, this particular addiction of mine, but must I always be ingesting something? Is there a void, other than my stomach that I’m struggling to fill?
