My tummy began to gurgle a bit more audibly as I arranged my food before me on the table. Pork postickers, breaded shrimp in a cream sauce, steamed vegetables and a bottle of Arizona green tea. I had been craving food of the Asian persuasion all day, and was almost overwhelmed by the anticipation of the impending satisfaction of my tastebuds.

Slipping my chopsticks from their sleeve and ripping them apart, I dove headfirst into my meal, snarfing down the shrimp as quickly as I could.

The only problem with the cream sauce that covers the breaded shrimp that danced inside my mouth is that it quickly dries out the palate. Thus, the bottle of Arizona green tea came in quite handy. After shaking the drink, I twisted off the cap, delighting in the resulting popping sound, and tore off the excess label that unceremoniously covered the mouth of the bottle. After replacing the cap, I returned to my plate, opting this time for some steamed mushrooms and snow peas.

The process was repeated several times throughout the course of the meal: eat food, put down chopsticks, shake bottle, remove cap, drink tea, replace cap, pick up chopsticks, resume eating. It was a flawless procedure that I had performed countless times before on several different occasions. One would think that nothing could stop the cogs in that seemingly simple operation.

Of course, you know that I wouldn’t be writing about my mid-evening meal if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Apparently, in my excitement to return to my potstickers, I forgot to replace the cap on the bottle of Arizona green tea, and didn’t realize my blunder until it was too late. Down went the chopsticks, and my hand reached for the bottle of tea. Imagine my surprise when I, expecting the pleasant gentle swish of liquid inside a sealed container, suddenly felt the bottle become much lighter. Almost simultaneously I heard a rather large, unpleasant splatting noise against the wall to my right.

It was the kind of noise that you react to similarly to the way you react to an overflowing toilet: you know it’s happening, you know it’s bad, but for some reason you are mesmerized by it, so much to the point that the time where any damage you could have prevented has long since passed.

Almost all the contents of my bottle of Arizona green tea had been splashed over the wall beside me. A dark, wet blob trickled from its point of impact and proceeded to soak my potted peace lily below, which had recently looked like it was taking a turn for the worse. Had I moved more quickly, the wet spot on the wall would probably have been much smaller. Instead, I found myself unable to move, and watched the stray drops of tea trickle down the wall, creating captivating artwork before me.

Eventually I regained my senses and managed to dry off the wall, and so now there is no visible evidence of my uncapped tea being strewn across the room. I am pleased to say that the peace lily has begun to bloom again; perhaps all it needed was a nice cuppa.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: