Introduction

It was late Saturday night - or, as some would say, early Sunday morning - as she climbed the stairs. She stepped softly, careful to keep her right wrist as steady as she could to keep her gigantic tea cup of hot water from tipping. She had boiled and poured it several minutes prior and was hoping that it had cooled sufficiently so that, once she reached her room at the top of the last platform, she could rip open her new teabag, place it in the cup to steep, and then sip from it soon after without burning her tongue. As she crab-walked her way up, she could not help but think that this was what it was like to feel "old," should one be able to properly define such a word. Her knees ached, but (in her mind) for all the right and most honorable reasons. She smiled inside as she realized she was wearing the prize she had earned at the same time she had earned the sore knees: the ten-hour volleyball tournament in Harrisville. She was still recovering from the severe sunburn she had received from that affair, but despite the pain she suffered that week (and the peeling she was still trying to get past), it was all worth it to her - even if all first place won was a t-shirt.

She reached her room and made a right through the open door. Her wrist quivered a bit as she gently set the flower pot-sized mug down on the round, metallic coaster at the edge of her large, black wooden desk. She felt relieved to have made it successfully to her final destination of the day without spilling any scalding hot water on herself - she was, after all, carrying it with her opposite hand. Roaming about her desktop, her eyes finally fell on the sky blue packet of tea. She picked it up and read it to herself: "Harney & Sons. ORANGE PEKOE." What is "Pekoe"? she thought aloud. She turned over the now opened packet to read the description: "A classic Assam laced with Ceylon." A load of good that did me...I don't know what Assam is either. She shrugged and slowly tugged the teabag out by its string. Then, as if it were someone easing into a jacuzzi after a long day's work, she slid the teabag into the steaming cup of water, guiding it down the side until it finally rested flat along the bottom of the mug. Without lifting the cup, she leaned in and allowed her nose to linger just above her mammoth mug and the aromatic waves of heat that were now drifting upwards into her room to serenade her senses, both with the sweet smell and the warm yet intangible touch as it wafted against her face. She then sat down in front of her laptop (situated in the very center of her desk) and began to type a new and quite overdue blog entry.