my saffron robe

My tea is sour and hot. Maybe I like it that way. I feel like a Buddhist master, sitting and drinking his sour and hot Oolong tea, contemplating human misery. It's a fine feeling, to sit here and pretend I'm wearing a saffron robe.

But really, I am wearing a long grey pajama top and black leggings and no shoes, and I am sitting on a stool in the kitchen drinking Oolong tea that I tried to sweeten. I'm contemplating nothing but how I could make my tea seem more romantic, when it's truly sour and makes my jaw ache.

I will sweeten it some more. Maybe Aunt Janel's sugar isn't as sweet as ours.

--Alas! This struggle with my tea! I put in a spoonful of sugar, which sweetens it a little, but it is still sour. More sugar. But Oolong is hopeless. So before my aching jaw gives me a headache, I dive into the fridge, pull out French Vanilla coffee creamer, and glug it into the tea till the liquid is pale.

And now it simply tastes like coffee. Oh, Americans. Oh, Italians. Oh, you French. Save me from the Chinese.