A habit

I have a peculiar habit, leaving mugs with some tea in them. Tea cold, dark, not so sweet anymore lying there in the bottom of the fine bone mug.

A row of tea mugs on the night stand , some cups and saucers, some mugs. All stained on the inside, waiting for the next bath, next hot rinse. All expecting a new beginning, but getting none.

The same sad mugs that once were new, now  foxy stained , and looking vintage. Some old crumbs of biscuit on the rim of the saucer , a stain of jam, or marmalade.

How sad is it to confess to this habit, expose myself before your eyes in a peculiar way. Nothing charming or seductive about it.

Do I need help ?