I left for work in kind of a hurry yesterday. I wasn’t late, but I didn’t get out the door and on the road as promptly as I like to do, so I accidentally skipped over the part where I packed a lunch. I also forgot to refill the little Tupperware I keep tea bags in.

Making myself a hot cuppa when I get to work is part of my morning ritual, as well as how I jump start my heart. Without some tea, I sputter along on one or two cylinders until I get enough momentum to get my whole engine running smoothly. So arriving at work with no tea bags was a minor catastrophe.

One of my coworkers was in, so I visited her first thing. “You look like someone who drinks tea,” I said to her, which got a smile. Apparently she took it as a compliment, but I was out of luck. “I don’t have any tea,” she said, “but I think Julie does.”

I walked over to Julie’s desk next and, after saying good morning, I added, “A little birdie told me you might have some tea for me.” That did not make her smile. It made her look so terribly confused that I started over. “I forgot to bring tea bags this morning so I’m asking around.” Then she laughed, opened a desk drawer and produced not one, but two boxes stuffed full of envelopes of different kinds of tea. It looked like she grabbed them from every hotel and restaurant she visited.

As I picked out a bag, she was still laughing. “When you asked me for the tea,” she explained, “I thought you wanted some gossip.”