In the end I managed to find a soup spoon to do the required job of transporting the Weetabix from bowl to Mildred. This was a first for me. If I learnt anything that I can share with you, it's that soup spoons are not made for cereal.
Anyway, enough about that. Post breakfast I set about tackling the mountain of dishes where I began to formulate a deep and philosophical question: why is the teacup always half full? It's a real puzzler I know.
You see, I had three abandoned cups of tea waiting by the sink to be cleaned. (There was a fourth, but that belonged to Dave, so that doesn't count). And yet, this is not odd. What is indeed odd was that all my retired beverages were still half full. What can this possibly mean I hear you cry? Well, I have deduced this:
- I evidently don't like tea as much as I like to think I do.
- I am obviously drinking tea for the wrong reasons as it is not making me anymore sophisticated or mature.
- I'm a cold beverage girl through and through.
- I must be rather more forgetful than I realise to forget that I have a tea to drink.
- If I struggle to reach the halfway mark with a cup of tea, coffee would be my nemesis; my Mount Everest. I'd be defeated even before I began.
- I think I might be an eternal optimist as the teacup has never been half empty. I like to assume that this is a good thing.
- Maybe I'm looking too deeply and the simple solution is to pour the remnants of the cup away before leaving the mug on the side?
Perhaps I've just been over-thinking.
Perhaps I just need to wash-up more often.
Yep, that sounds like a good idea to me.
M
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