I cannot describe to you the panic I just had.
It was heart-attack inducing. I couldn’t breathe. Black spots covered my vision.
Ok, maybe I can describe it.
I’d gone to make some of my favourite tea — Yogi brand Green Tea Echinacea Plus — because it’s good for getting rid of colds, and I’ve got a tickle in my throat.
The tea box was full of bags of another type of tea.
I’m out of my favourite tea.
I had to make another type of tea that has echinacea in it. It’s not as good.
Add that to my closet exploding last night, and I’m starting to believe my Oma’s ghost is haunting me. And her
WASP F/DP (Frieslander/Dutch-Protestant) spirit is pissed about what I’m doing in her old apartment: too much sex, not enough knitting.
Though she could have picked a better way of telling me than to make all my yarn fall down go boom. Or fucking with my tea; that shit is sacred, man, don’t do that.
Dammit. Now I have to exorcise my Oma. This is going to be awkward.