Two sugars please

This morning I woke up soooooooo tired. It was my own fault as I was up till three and I knew the builder was arriving at seven thirty to work on the deck with the BH.

At seven twenty-five, bleary eyed and stumbling, I forced myself out of bed to make tea. I was literally bleary eyed, and so when I though I saw something in the sugar, I ignored it. Then I noticed something floating in the tea and realised it wasn’t just my eyesight.

Nasty, tiny, alive things were in my cupboard! And my sugar!

And this is my all own fault too, because I had seen those nasty tiny things on Saturday in another cupboard. But ignored them. Hoping they’d go away.

They didn’t. They multiplied.

Still, it gave me the chance to sort out the cupboards. Which I don’t do very often. I remember thinking corner cupboards would hold a lot when I planned the kitchen, I didn’t think about how bloody impossible they are to clean. It wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t hold as much, but where the heck am I supposed to put all the things as I’m doing it?

I tried asking the kids to ferry items to the table, to be checked and cleaned, as I passed them down. But I’d made the mistake of telling them why, and they all ran away making ucky sounds.

But I had fun cleaning out my cupboards. I found that packet of spice my mate brought me back from South Africa, and the spare packet of authentic Italian pasta I bought for that dinner party, oh and look how many packets of paprika are stuffed down the back, and why did I buy salt yesterday when I have four bags already? (Luckily, nasty tiny things don’t like salt.)

My mother showed up as I was washing down the shelves and started poking in the bags.

Her: Why are you throwing out this pasta?

Me: Look close, we’ve got an infestation.

Her: Umm, you really should check your food when you bring it home.

Me: Check it?

Her: Oh yes, the supermarkets are full of nasty things, and there’s always the odd weevil in a bag of flour. Are they weevils?

She squints at the packet to try and see the nasty, tiny things.

Her: Umm, not weevils. This packet’s had it.

Me: I know that’s why it’s in the rubbish bag.

Her: Rubbish bag? You’re not throwing all this food away are you?

Me: Mom, it’s all covered in them!

Her: You can't throw out this flour.

Me: I am! Look inside.

She does.

Her: They’re tiny, they won’t do you any harm.

Me: I’m not eating them! Now put it back in the bag.

Her: Honestly, you're so over-dramatic.

Me: If I keep it, it'll infected everything again!

Her: So what’s wrong with this rice? You can wash it.

Me: And what am I supposed to do with it then? Lay it out to dry and then re-bag? No. If you can be bothered doing all that, then please take it. But wash it properly or you’ll have them in your cupboards.

She was silent and placed the rice back in the bin bag, which I took as her defeat.

Her: A tin! They can’t get in there.

Me: Umm, that’s one’s out of date, about two years.

Her: So? They doesn’t really go off you know!

Me: Mom! Please, put it back in the bag.

Her: You didn’t live in Africa long enough! In Africa we lived on out of date tins all the time. In fact I don't think they even bothered putting dates on the tins!

--x--

And talking of tea (which I was at the very beginning, remember?), I drink a lot of it.

This came up in a conversation with a girlfriend who’s just had a baby. This baby is special because he’s a miracle (they really do happen!)

But just because a baby is a miracle doesn’t mean their babyhood will be easy. This tiny, cute miracle is a tad grumpy because everything disagrees with him, and his poor mother has had to cut her diet in an effort to make her breastmilk stay in his stomach.

One of the things gone is tea. At least normal tea. The mother is drinking camomile, and swears blind it’s changed her personality.

And then she suggested I try it.

Umm, it’s not that I’m against trying teas, but, but… I need a decent cup of caffeine or it's just not worth the bother.

I run on it (though obviously not literally!), I simply couldn’t get through the day without a cup of heavily caffeinated tea in my hand.

She made a sort of squirming noise, and commented that maybe I drink too much tea.

TOO MUCH TEA? Is there such a thing?!

I googled.

Apparently there IS such a thing.

I had to laugh when I read the daily recommended intake! Six cups? Ha! I have two before I’m dressed and I’m up to six by elevenses (except if I’m going shopping where there are no toilets ;o)). And –apparently- one of the reasons there is a recommended amount is because caffeine’s not good for you! I did know this. But as I don’t drink coffee, it doesn’t really apply to me.

At least, not before now that I’ve bothered to think about it

And if caffeine’s not good for you, I guess bumping it up with a glass of Barrocca (alert aid) each morning (and occasionally lunchtime) doesn’t help?

I don’t know what to do. I know what I should do, but come on… it’s only tea!

I shall go and buy some de-caffeinated tea tomorrow. I shall try it.

If I say it enough, I’ll do it. But I don’t want to!