A Proper Tea

aculeatus sent me a lovely teapot after I mentioned I hadn't the means to make proper tea. It is a sweet little terra cotta affair, big enough for two cups at a time. She also sent along some Cadbury milk bars, and as we speak, I am happily crushing a piece of the chocolate and mint bar. I've only ever seen the Cadbury Creme Eggs that proliferate around Easter, so the bars are a wondrous revelation. Also in the care package was a strainer and a box of loose tea, as well as a parchment from the Professor with explicit instructions on proper tea preparation. He also admonished me to not hurt anyone with the teapot.

He knows me too well.

He needn't worry. Were I to make tea, the firemen who answered the alarm would likely find my charred corpse amid the smoldering wreckage of my little apartment, lips pulled from grotesquely white teeth and flaking into the winter breeze. My hand would be curled around the teapot, and the strainer would be melded to my eternally surprised face. No, I'll leave the tea-making to my better-coordinated roomie. If all else fails, the pot can be used for hot cocoa.

Other than that, there is little of note. University fees have been paid, and I have secured lodging until July. I will be taking 20th Century Europe Through Film with a professor under whom I have studied on four previous occasions. He is a brilliant man, and I am looking forward to it immensely.

Right now, life is good.