I had a dream, a long time ago, where I was a passenger in this girl's car, and she was driving me all around the country, stopping at all these little house-shops where old gramma ladies made their own special little brands of tea.
And we were just going around like that, laughing and joking in the car, taking turns driving, talking with all these old gramma ladies who were more than happy to have some pleasant company, smelling all these spices and herbs and whatever in their shops, walking in their gardens sometimes, sampling all these different kinds of tea, and it was wonderful.
That's definitely the sweetest and most gentle present my brain every bothered to give me.
Usually I get fun stuff like that fight in the pouring rain with the giant white centipede in the woodshed, or that one where the sun decides to go out like a bad lightbulb one day and I have to listen to everybody crying until we all freeze.
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