My Cup of Tea

I live in merry old England and I drink a whole lot of tea. I drink so much that each day I pass five gallons of pee. My wife poured a boiling cup of tea over my head. Then she crammed the cup where the sun doesn't shine and my face turned red. She's on the warpath, did I do something that pissed her? I wonder if she's found out that I'm sleeping with her sister. She's gathering her things and she's getting packed. She's leaving and I don't think that she's coming back. She can leave if she wants but one thing really does worry me. She did all of the cooking and I don't know how to make tea. (This is a fictional poem)