Many years ago the legal drinking age and I both became 18 at about the same moment. I was in that odd in between status. Old enough to drink but still living at home for a few summers. I enjoyed the occasional beer. Still do, truth be told.
So I'd put some in the fridge now and again. A six pack seemed to be no problem. But if I indulged in the family tendency toward frugality and bought the more economical 12 pack my dad raised an eyebrow and in fact on one occasion said "That's more than I like to see." Fair enough, his brother, my Uncle Ben, was a skid row alcoholic. Not that he drank beer much. From his occasional stays with us when no other option was available there were always a few hidden bottles that turned up later. Vile, cheap, distilled poison. I think my general aversion to whiskey and such stems from this.
Fast forward to 2020. Wisconsin is hitting a tough stretch and my Better Half has decreed that visits to the store are to be minimized. Today she sent me to the liquor emporium with orders to only return with at least a one month supply of "essentials".
Old habits die hard. I think this is the first time I've ever needed a shopping cart for booze, other than a few times when we were laying in stock for family reunions, weddings etc. But I soldiered on and accomplished my mission. It sure felt weird.
Ready for boredom and cabin fever. At least thirst will not be added as a further hardship.
To be clear this is for both of us. Neither the brandy nor the wine are to my tastes. Regards the latter I had general instructions regards Sauvignon Blanc from a certain region of New Zealand. With my remaining discretion I bought anything that mentioned monkeys on the label.
No comments:
Post a Comment