You Know You're Fucked When Lady Grey Is The Only Tea You've Got In The House

I live with some tea snobs. They drink a ton of the stuff. Fancy names. Hang on...I'll go check...

It's all T2 and brand name tea shop stuff. Anyway, because they buy so much tea, I sorta sponge off them, as they usually have some black tea I like.  Manly tea...

...like English Breakfast, Prince of Wales, Australian Afternoon, Earl Gray, or the best one, Orange Pekoe (I shit you not. That's its name, and it's not a girly tea). Anyway.

Our house is on the market. And because we can't show it with 3 dogs. My partner and the pack are living in the new place (we've already bought the new place).

Somehow, the tea container where I put the black tea that I (errr....need a better word than steal...umm...tax! that's it!)...the black tea that I tax from them, got moved down to the new place.

I raided their considerable tea holdings, that they left at the old house and, after an exhaustive search, the best that I could come up with was Lady Grey.

So it's Saturday night. 21:30 hours and I can't be fagged, gettin' in the car and driving allllll the way to the shop for real tea.

Fucked, fucked, fucked, J.

======================Post Script==================

Now you might be thinking, what's a post about tea, doing in a yoga blog? 

Have you not been to a modern yoga studio lately? 

They're practically forcing the stuff down your throat...

...Except ...for ...where ...I ...go...shit! I always thought they weren't a proper yoga studio.