I have measured out my life with . . . spoons
So, my first cup of tea of the day was at home, continued in the car in a tippy cup on the way to the airport.
My second was in the new lounge at the airport (v. nice).
The third was on the plane, in-flight.
As was the fourth.
As was the fifth.
The sixth was at Mader's, in Milwaukee, with dinner. Bringing my own teabags prevented me from succumbing to the Earl Grey conspiracy.
The seventh saaw me though the rest of dinner.
Back at The Plaza, I've not yet decided on whether I'll have an eighth and final cup for the day before calling it a night. But the evidence suggests it's likely.
--current reading: the Peterson