It’s not so unusual that I’m fixing myself a cup of tea on a cold, gray New England afternoon. (Chai rooibos, if you’re curious, and do please ignore my scratched-up, frequently used travel thermos cup.)
I can’t read tea leaves, but I can get down with the fortune cookie-style wisdom attached to a tea bag. It read:
Patience gives the power to practice; practice gives the power that leads to perfection.
[Eyeroll.] As a recovering perfectionist, all I could think was, “Fuck, I wish my 5th grade self would have started with patience instead of perfect.”
I had gotten it backwards for so long. Live and learn.