It’s sort of been a tea day.
First there was the giant anonymous gift box of tea that the FedEx truck dropped off. Packet after packet of tea. Lots of tea. Wonderful tea.
From whom? As it turned out, after several attempts to unravel the mystery, from a publisher for whom I do a little work. They must know me better than I thought. Thank you!
But then I harnessed up the reindeer and made a trip out in the snow to lay in some provissions. Orange juice, apples, dinner fixings, and–of course–tea. The woman who rang up my purchases patted the can of tea and said, “I hope you won’t be offended by this, but this makes me think. I was at a friend’s house yesterday and his dog had died and the vet had returned the dog’s ashes to him in a tin just like this.”
She waited to see whether I was going to be offended.
“Actually,” I said, “I drink enough of this stuff that it might be fitting to have my ashes end up in a tin like this one of these days. Hmm. I think I’ll suggest this to my family. Makes a lot of sense, really.”
Oy. How long until spring?