I did not know that Canadians like to drink hot tea all day. David’s favorite in Canada is Red Rose Tea, a black breakfast tea; but in Israel, he fell in love with Wysoski black tea. Israel imports it from Poland for the Russian Jews. When he came to live with me, he was a mess. He was in considerable physical pain from the Crohn’s and his bleeding abscess. Plus he was in considerable mental anguish from his eviction. Naturally I was trying to make him feel comfortable and to convince his worried subconscious mind that ‘everything was normal and ordinary’. No need to fret. Everything is perfectly normal. I had brought David’s teas from his former apartment. I just grabbed a handful when I was packing up his kitchen. (I was packing his kitchen because he was in Ziv Hospital – but that is another story.) I took the teabags from six different boxes, threw away the boxes, and stuffed them loose in a ziploc baggie. Therefore, I could offer for David his own teas. I am sorry to digress so much. Eventually I will have recorded all these stories and then I will be able to tell the short tales as short tales! Back to the tea… David wants a cup of hot tea because it comforts him and he is upset. I boiled water in his beautiful kumkum with the neon blue light in it. He interrogates me about the coffee cups. Are they really milchik? Have I ever washed them with the meat dishes? I satisfied him that I had bought the mugs brand new at IKEA in Rishon Letzion, toivelled them, and never used them for anything but coffee or tea. I passed his test, so he agreed to let me serve him tea! I offered him my precious Sucrazit in the mushroom. He had never seen that before and was impressed that I had such sweet, fairy princess things in my house. We have very different outlooks on life, he and I. So David took my orange Sucrazit mushroom with the green cap and started adding sweetener to his black tea. One pellet. Two pellets. Three pellets. I sucked in my breath. What was he doing with my precious Sucrazit?! Four pellets. Five pellets. SIX PELLETS. I was staring at him like he had just committed a murder, my mouth agape. “I like my tea sweet”, he said. My yetzer hara was raging. Six Sucrazits! If he did that all day, I would be out of sweetener before Shabbat!