Over Afternoon Tea

Tea is not only a drink but a ritual over which people have been relaxing, talking, and catching up on each other's lives for centuries. This blog is intended to serve as a virtual cup of tea, helping me keep in touch with friends and family in my physical absence.

I had a day from the land of frustration movies, that dubious genre apparently invented and solely sustained by Carey Grant. Or maybe it would be too 'out there' even for such a movie. It started with promise: running slightly late to work, back pain from an unknown source that's been getting slightly worse with each passing day, traffic on the roads, getting to work only just barely on time. The plot thickened with a slightly stressful day at work, since I'm learning to do a new (and terribly important) job at the office. This is entirely necessary and beneficial, even interesting, but it meant today that I was trying to juggle some of my own workload as well as the new project, which took twice as long as it should've since I'm new at it. In addition, I (being new to what I was learning) didn't realize I had to ask my boss about a few things ASAP, and then he went into a meeting, so I ended up not being able to start a major project until after lunch. Except that I didn't take lunch till a little past three, by which time I was freezing and slightly cranky.
Needless to say, I had to stay late, something I wouldn't ordinarily mind doing. But I had an appointment for coffee and had stayed late the past two nights. So I postponed my coffee date and finally left at a quarter to six, only to observe that the ever-temperamental interstate was moving at a crawl. So I thought to myself, "I shall avoid the traffic by calling my husband, telling him to tell Julie I'll be late, and then shopping for some wine at this wine-shop across the street." Our wine-stock was low, the shop looked interesting, and it was a good plan.
Except that as soon as I got out of the car, I realized I'd locked the keys into it. In the ignition, to be precise. So I called my husband back. He's got a gig he can't get out of. So he sends a friend. Great. I go shopping. The good part is, I find some nice wines and some delicious and very serious chocolate (high-cocoa dark chocolate with bits of cocoa beans in it--yummy!). Also, I find a warm, indoor place to wait. The bad part is, I tell Seraphim to go to exit 17 instead of exit 27, because I'm bad with numbers. So Seraphim drives 20 minutes the wrong way on the interstate before we figure out what I did.
So now I'm safely home, getting ready to go for coffee with Julie. I'm a little afraid to go out again, but I guess I'd better go. If I stay I'll probably burn down the dorm--or at least break the wine-bottles.