Tea Amnesia

I have been diagnosed with Amnesiatus Bushellia, or in layman's terms, Tea Amnesia.

If I make a cup of coffee and bring it back to my desk, I remain aware of it. I sense it in my periphery, I can smell it's aroma. I am in control of the situation; I allow it to cool to the preferred temperature, and then at the appropriate time, begin to drink it.

Not so with a cup of tea. As soon as I put it down on my desk, I completely forget its existence. Any trace of it's being is erased from my memory. Even the desire for tea, or any sense of thirst suddenly disappears. The trip to the kitchen, the rummage through the biscuit jar, the smalltalk with a colleague all evaporate from memory, as a dream, as a mist dispersing in the warmth of the sun.

And then I awaken from the trance. What time is it? How many minutes have passed? Or is it hours? I'm sure I shaved this morning-- why do I suddenly have a beard? And there it stands; the untouched cup of tea. The temperature of a dead man's skin. The colour of a dead man's skin. The milk on top has sort of separated a bit. A brown ring has formed around the rim of the cup.

Oh vile, liquid, Oh poisonous brew; from what dark source hath thou flown?