What typically happens when I boil water for tea:
I
fill up my whistling teapot and wander off. By the time I hear the
beginnings of a low whistle, I am at the very opposite end of the
condo. I seize up at the thought of our crazy, grumpy, next-door
neighbor knocking on the door to complain about noise levels, so I make
a mad dash to the kitchen. This involves slaloming around furniture, as
I have a weakness for...um...all furniture. The whistling builds. One
or all three of my cats decide to saunter along in front of me,
directly underfoot, all the way to the kitchen. By the time I reach the
teapot, it is at mad shrieking levels. I lift it from the stovetop and
breathe a sigh of relief as quiet descends.
What I wish would happen:
Read More...
