In the process of getting a cup of tea, I zoned out and ended up pouring coffee over top of the tea bag. It was my last tea bag, and I didn’t feel like making the perilous trek to the other side of the dark building to steal another, so I dumped out the coffee and refilled with water. The damage had already been done, though; the tea bag was bloated with coffee.
Returning my seat, I alerted Eleanore to my screw-up; a little self-deprecation usually goes a long way with her, makes her feel superior. I let her make fun of me while the tea was steeping, happy that my roast had rendered her scissor-hands inactive.
"Mmmm, this is delicious," I said after taking a tentative sip.
Not picking up on my sarcasm, Eleanore said, "Oh thank God, babe! I was worried you’d waste the tea bag."
As she was saying that, I had started to get up from my seat, planning to dump the cup of java tea and rinse my mouth with a good acid wash. But see, she’s been talking to me all night, like the good old days, initiating conversation all on her own. I didn’t want to risk compromising our newfound friendship by correcting her. Eleanore hates to be corrected. Oh, how my ennui loves a good dilemma. To dump or to drink.
One of my polarizing personalities is People Pleaser, which always inspires a chuckle or two since I really don’t like people much at all. So I kept it. I’m drinking a muddied cup of tea. My tongue just touched a swarm of coffee grinds. I’m drinking tea and coffee from the same cup. It’s disgusting. And I think I’m beginning to acquire a taste for it.