Earl Grey

The lights were low so as not to disturb the sleeping clownies, and I made myself a large mug of tea and a hot water bottle. Having climbed into bed and positioned the hottie on my cold feet, I reached for my tea and took a disgusting sip. Something wasn’t right. It was far too white. It was far too weak. It was far too milky. In fact, it was just as though I hadn’t introduced the teabag to the cup at all, not even for a second. But I distinctly remembered having a teabag in my hand because I had noted to myself that I needed to buy a new box.

Thinking I must have completely lost it, I searched back in the kitchen and, with a disbelieving chuckle, I took the stopper out of my new fluffy hottie and, low and behold, there was the teabag and a very wrong aroma of rubbery Earl Grey.