Peppering the Mint
I wish I had something more interesting to put here than my dreams. Well, I don’t want to recap the cucumber bugs (and trust me, you don’t want me to either). Currently I’m sitting on the couch, waiting for motivation to tell me to get ready for class, or at least grab a hit of caffeine—honestly, I don’t think that I should be aloud to function without my Diet Coke or English Breakfast.
That English Breakfast is made at the Celestial Seasonings factory in Boulder, CO. I went on a tour of the factory a few years ago, and by far the most memorable part: the Peppermint Room. You’re walking innocently through the factory, which looks very drab and factoryish and there it is: a brightly painted red and white garage door. The tour guide warns us that the fumes from the peppermint room can be quite overwhelming; a few members (well the guys, this is a high school tour after all) of the group chuckle. She opens the door, and a couple people walk in. I stand just outside the door and feel as though I’ve been hit by a wave of smell, a wave of peppermint. The people inside the room look like they’re being slowly tortured; first by the knowledge that the room contains “just peppermint” and that they’re tough enough to stand it, and second by the knowledge (and fact) that they are openly weeping in front of the tour guide, the class, and the peppermint. I bought a nice box of Bengal Spice at the end of the tour. That was the brand they were brewing in the factory that day, and I’d had my fill of anything reminiscent of peppermint.
A trip to the fridge reveals no Diet Coke, so I’m going to have to get my act together to pull off a mug of tea before I run out of the apartment.
That English Breakfast is made at the
A trip to the fridge reveals no Diet Coke, so I’m going to have to get my act together to pull off a mug of tea before I run out of the apartment.
