I used to start my day with a cup of tea. Or four.

I liked it black and steeped until the astringent liquid would hit my tongue and jolt me into wakefulness.

I liked it hot in my hands before it was cool enough to drink.

I slopped it over the sides of my tea cup on the way down the driveway in the morning and figured the wet pants were a small price to pay.

I had extra cups on cold winter days and slow days and sad days and grumpy days. I had extra cups in celebration of warm mornings and happy occasions and book reading afternoons.

I always used to start my day with a cup of tea, or six.

But now… having become fairly intolerant of excessive amounts of caffeine, I start my day with a cup of Mud.

One cup.

Of mud.

MUD/WTR, as it…