Who Moved My Tea?
Project 365, Day 5
Most mornings, Charles and I engage in this ritual of shared beverage duties. He brews up my coffee, as I’m a coffee person, and I make his tea, as he’s a tea person. It’s the kind of thing that just is for no other reason than one day, we just did that. Well, if I’m being honest, his part of things is because I likely guilted him into it at some point or another, but then he started finding joy in the art. As someone who doesn’t drink coffee, he makes a better cup than I do. Just the right ratio of cream to coffee; no sugar. I take my coffee to match the color of my Puerto Rican skin. Not by design, just because it pleases my taste buds.
Seeing the pleasure he took in my morning cup of jo, I started prepping his tea. He didn’t ask. He never guilted me into anything. That’s not his art form, and I’m not proud that it’s mine (I’m working on it). So every morning, whether weekday or weekend, I stand at the counter. “Where’s your cup??” I typically holler out to him. Charles has taken to drinking his Tazo out of an insulated Yeti tumbler, so proud and elated at how long that thing keeps his drink hot, almost as if he invented the idea rather than just bought into it.
Once I find his cup, which most times is just staring me right in the face given that he responsibly brings it to the counter most nights (or mornings, he gets up before me, so it’s hard to know what’s accomplished before I peel myself from the warm cocoon of the bed), I get to tea-making.
Kettle on. Beep, beep, beep up to 212 degrees. He prefers the water to fully boil—”You know, just in case that matters”—then lets the water come back down a handful of degrees to not scorch the delicate tea leaves. In that time, about four minutes, I meander to the other side of the kitchen. Don’t be fooled, it’s about five short steps, but some days, it feels like the length of a football field. The box of tea—he only buys one at a time, rather than stocks up on his daily dose because Charles isn’t one for hoarding anything besides photography equipment—is kept on the top shelf of the spice cabinet. I have a lot of spices, so it teeters on the edge of a box of what I think is tea I myself hoarded during my tea phase that sits in an old Jo Malone box waiting to be steeped. Keep waiting, tea. Keep waiting.
I grab a bag out of the box, take my five steps back, dangle it into his tumbler, the tag hanging out as it is supposed to, and do the ceremonious squeeze of honey into the bottom of the cup, waiting to hear the delicate beep of the electric kettle. Water’s ready. Pour, stir, make sure tea tag and string doesn’t get caught in the stream of water as it does sometimes. I hate digging it back out with a fork, soaked.
There’s something I haven’t mentioned about this whole process, however. Taking those five steps from the counter with the tea kettle to the cabinet with the tea bags irks me every time. Why? No idea. It’s five steps. Ten round trip. But every time I do it, and it’s been months of doing it, I make a huff before making the trip. I always wish the tea supplies were all in one place. It’s the equivalent of accidentally leaving your phone in the bathroom once you settle into bed. Every. Single. Day.
This is ridiculous, of course. Writing it, and reading it, makes me embarrassed that I’m even telling you, but we all have our things. Right?!? I promise I’m not immensely lazy as this story would indicate.
I remember listening to a podcast once entitled “Aziz Ansari Needs a Second Toothbrush.” The actor/comedian was being interviewed about a book he had written, and in the process, revealed that he always brushes his teeth in the shower in the morning, but at the sink at night. So every morning, he forgets his toothbrush isn’t there, has to do that silly wet footed tiptoe out of the shower to the sink to grab it. Then at night, he has to reach into the shower to bring it back to the sink. A vicious groundhog’s day cycle. The podcast host asked him “why don’t you just get a second toothbrush? Surely you can afford it.” Aziz’s answer? “I never thought to do that.”
That is me with the tea. It wasn’t until yesterday morning, standing in front of the spice-tea cabinet that I thought to myself Why wouldn’t I just move the tea box?
So, friends, I moved the tea box. I grabbed it, closed the cabinet, took my five steps back (FOR THE LAST TIME), and plopped it right next to my canister of coffee grounds. What had taken me so long? The truth is, just like Aziz, I had never even thought to do that. It will save me about 2 seconds every morning, which is essentially pointless in terms of efficiency, but for whatever reason, it makes the process of making Charles’ tea now enjoyable. I can stand at the counter waiting for the tea kettle to beep, thoughts uninterrupted. What a treat.
This act made me wonder what other things I do every day that the simplest, most mundane tweak could improve. I haven’t thought of anything yet. The obvious things are always the trickiest, but I’ll keep noodling on it. You should, too. For yourself, not for me, of course. And report back, as perhaps it’ll give me ideas. An Ah-ha moment to level up my everyday.
See you tomorrow, friends. Gonna go make some tea now. 🙂