|Mad Hatter's Tea Cups at Disney Magic Kingdom|
It seems peculiar that I'm no longer faced with a looming deadline, but the serendipitous result of that tragic loss is that my murky mind is now open to some free association, and I've been spinning my saucer silly. No kidding! I've already come up with some nifty ideas and one real solution to a running conundrum. (Seriously, haven't you ever seen a conundrum run?)
I love tea. That's not the problem, but getting my tea is. It's the actual tea making process that's been a bit of an issue. For one thing, I like teapots. Wouldn't dream of sticking a cup of water in the microwave. I like turning on my gas stovetop and letting the water slowly warm. I like hearing the teapot whistle at me, letting me know I'm wanted. Only lately, my teapot hasn't whistled. Maybe I'm getting too old. No more whistles. The fact is, though, that my teapot never whistled, even if it was turned on.
So, this has been a little problem for me, the lack of attention and all. Especially since I'm working in the dining room, which, as you know, is more than a few paces from the kitchen (but not far enough away). Very stressful. You see, I fill the pot, put it on the stove, return to my work—all perfectly reasonable steps, right?—and then promptly forget that I'm making tea.... until about a half hour, or more, later when I realize that I am missing my tea. This is when my heart begins to beat wildly and I race to the kitchen to save my teapot from near death—being rendered bone dry, and scorched beyond recognition.
Unfortunately, I usually don't get there in time, so now my teapot sort of looks like this:
When it should look like this:
Yes, now having a cup of tea does offer transcendence away from the mad and frantic world.