It's indicative of what a weird place my mind is. I'm making my tea this morning, and I notice there's one teabag left in the caddie. Being the good samaratin I am, I pulled out another handfull of bags from the box. And being the over-analyzing strange person I am, as I filled up the caddie I thought, "if I'm a teabag, would I want to be left behind, or used up?"
Let's set aside the obvious fact that teabags aren't generally thought to have specific wants or desires or life-affirming goals, and consider the more subtle possibilities of teabag motivations.
And for the humble teabag, what? If I'm left in the caddie, I'm a teabag for longer. But I am, perhaps, potential unfilled. Is it my destiny to be steeped in hot water, to have my essence diluted, sweetened, and digested? Of course. And so knowing my destiny, I desire it, and human again, I scramble through the caddie (dumping most of the new teabags across the counter in the process), pull out the last-but-now-first teabag, and fulfill a destiny.
I don't know if I'm having too much caffeine or not enough.
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