Talk to nice sleep.

The clock on the mantel strikes three, and I frown as the chimes ring out with their bong, bong, bong, bong.

He's late.

I used to have a cuckoo clock, but it turned out to be slightly demoralizing for some of my patients.

No one likes to be told that their session is over by a tiny stuffed bird, reminding them

that they are cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo.

It simply wasn't a professional.

So I purchased a lovely antique from a former patient's estate sale.

They had talked extensively about the clock during our weekly sessions,

and I figured that my mantle would be the perfect spot for it after they passed.

Of course, I asked the next of kin if they would be comfortable with me purchasing the clock.

I didn't want to be inconsiderate of their feelings. They readily agreed, saying how much my sessions had helped their loved one during some trying

times.

I had to laugh at that once I was alone.

I glance at the clock and it's 305.

Tarty is one thing, but late without any notice is a whole other problem.

I've already set out the tea, cups, sugar, milk, honey, lemon, and a steaming pot of rich black tea.

It's a special variety that I purchase from a Chinese market across town.

Although, variety is a misnomer. Unlike coffee, there is only one tea plant.

White tea, green tea, black tea. They all come from the exact same plant. The differences between them

are where the plants are grown, the age at which the leaves are picked, their individual curing process, and their

preparation. Yet, at the end of the day, orange pico and oolong are of the same tea leaves.

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