I always forget that I have put on the kettle.

Earl Grey is my poison of choice. Steeped for longer than it probably should be. Loose leaf, in a stylized strainer. A little milk and too much sugar, if I put anything in at all. I rather like drinking tea.

But I forget that I’ve put the kettle on. I leave the kitchen, I go somewhere else, I forget that I’m thirsty.

The screaming of the kettle always catches me off guard. I always have to run back to the kitchen, find my mug, if I even left it out and prepare everything as a harried mess.

Then it is too hot. For ten minutes it sits. Sometimes I forget that I have it there and it goes cold.

For those times I actually can drink my tea, remembering it when it is at the perfect temperature, ready for me. Sweetened or no.

Something finally seems right.