A Cuppa

I’m not British, but we watch lots of British drama, and BBC World News America, so perhaps I fancy myself clever, using British terms. Maybe cuppa is Australian. I was in New Zealand once.

I don’t have much family on my dad’s side, so when my second cousin once removed invited us to her daughter’s wedding in Coventry, we went. It was the first wedding on my side of the family that Ruth and I had attended since our wedding 48 years before.

I drink decaffeinated green tea. It’s supposed to be good for you. I drink it out of pretty white cups. I don’t always use a saucer, but I’m off mugs. I have 2,213 mugs from teaching.

I was in the basement, and noticed a pretty cup that came with the place 14 years ago. I thought, I’ll add it to my pretty cup collection.

This isn’t a picture of the cup, but it was something like this. You can get this one at Replacments Unlimited.

I happily put it in the dishwasher to get who knows what off of it, and poured my morning tea.

I set it on the breakfast table, and when I took a sip, I spilled tea in my lap. Sure it was my error, I used a napkin. When I set the cup down, I noticed a ring on the placemat.

I thought, “You’re kidding.” I lifted the cup eye level and watched two more drips. A quick inspection of the inside showed no cracks or pits. It was perfect, but a leaker. I put the dump ticket on it.

Because this is mostly a writing blog, I’ll say, “I have plots that leak, as well.”