What Hy-Vee Tea means to me.

In the office…again. I just made myself a mug of Hy-Vee brand black Chai tea with water from the probably bacteria-infested fountain across the hall and I stirred in three – count ‘em, THREE – packets of Sweet ’N Low. Since I’ve banned myself from purchasing ANY food that doesn’t come from the grocery store, getting a mug from the Union or a diet soda from the vendo downstairs are not options. So, I’ve settled on the tea. I would have opted for caffeine pills if I had them, but I don’t, and I’m exhausted…again.

In just a few weeks, I won’t be writing five-page poetry analyses until 3 in the morning and then waking up the next day at 7am to bike to the library to finish the paper before work begins at noon. I’ll be back in DBQ, spending my nights in front of a campfire or seized by the soothing massage of hot tub bubbles. I won’t buy any tea, generic or otherwise, and probably won’t drink soda. During the days, my eyelids will be light and my eyeballs will be clear. My body will be rested and happy.

In just a few weeks, I won’t be kept awake by the following:
- The abrasive, wall-penetrating tone of Room-mi’s cartoon-like language, rising and falling, swooning and accusing, all in Korean so that I can’t even understand what the conversation is about, I just get to listen to the noise of it
- The car alarms from the parking lot below my window
- The constant wind that shakes my apartment building high up on the Kato Plateau. It’s Wizard of Oz wind. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw a witch pedaling a bike out my window, three stories up.
- The sentences, paragraphs, and pages that write themselves in my head as I try to fall asleep. Lately, it’s the only time they’ll come; I have no access to them during the day when I sit down in front of a blank Word doc. So, when they appear in my mind, floating along the hazy balance of awake and asleep, I have to write them down or I’ll risk losing them forever.
- The muffled thumping from the apartment next door – more specifically, bed thumps – more specifically than that, sex thumps
- The eye-burning glow from my UltraBrite computer screen as I type out bullshit assignments that I don’t have done for the next day and that I know I could have done better if I would have started them sooner.
- The essays that I know I should write but never do.
- The fear that I won’t hear my alarm clock or that the batteries will fail in the middle of the night and I won’t wake up until dinner time.

I might, however, be kept awake by:
- The irresistible lure of old Roseanne episodes on Nick at Night.
- Knowing that I can stay up late downloading songs because I don’t have to be anywhere the next day.
- The sentences, paragraphs, and pages that write themselves in my head as I try to fall asleep.

But at least I’ll be home, and the sun will be hot, and the stress will evaporate. And if I get tired in the middle of the day, instead of consuming liquid uppers, I’ll take time between the far-more-distant deadlines and lazy, undemanding summer pressures and I’ll nap.