Monday Morning: Here We Go

Tea, made properly, is delightful. This morning's tea, however, is redolent of damp willow and long smoked cigarettes. Drinking it is not unlike making love to a fallen sprite; the verdant glen left far behind for the dusty resignation of a Heineken bottle. We are not all young ferocity here. There is a time for the old and tender habit.

Not all acquired tastes are good ones.

There's a lesson that was a long time coming, but I guess it would have to be that way. The birds are in an uproar this...