On a day like today (payday) I am usually in an awesomely great mood after work shopping at my favorite store (my store) trying a few new items like Chicken Pot Pie Bites (OMG) and replacing some others, olive oil, cheese, coffee and sake. I’ve been refraining from sake for a few weeks now realizing my nightcap starts the moment I pull the bottle out of the bag and by 7:30 I am nite-nite.
I’ve considered things I can close that won’t go bad so I don’t have to have too much great wine the first night and sort of old wine thereafter. I considered tequila but it gives me a headache. I’ve settled for Bedtime Tea, which doesn’t help at 1 am when I’ve finally won the arm wrestling match with the latest painting and now I can’t sleep and am supposed to get up in four hours, or five depending on how many times I hit snooze.
Enter Box o’ Wine.
Long time ago when I lived in California and was married with barbeques and friends over we kept Box o’ Wine (a different kind) in the fridge. It was just tasty enough to serve in pretty wine glasses and not so tasty that they wanted more than one glass, usually, well depending on the friend or if it was my mom, and it was darned handy to throw into the fried rice while I was cooking, the wine not my mom. Box ‘o Wine seemed like the perfect solution.
Mmmm a very good month.
Easy to open.
Yossarian, of course thinks it’s for him.
Phoebe feigns disinterest.
For me right?
Really for me, right?
Box ‘o Wine take me away from the tiny stylishly dressed elderly woman scooting along on a cute walker. I saw her out of the corner of my eye when I reached for the oyster crackers a moment before she smacked into my legs three times to get me out of her way. Then followed me, one might say chased me with that damned walker up the other side of the frozen section.
Box ‘o Wine take me away from the man on his phone at the check out next to me who darted around then came back as I waited and waited in my line. Where is the breakfast sausage he says, is told and scurries away. I move over to his spot. The woman in front is paying. I move up. He comes back. I changed my mind he says swooping his basket in front of me. I only have three things he says. I back up. I am a shopper now. I still have my TJ’s sweatshirt on but must have made my crabby disgusted, sure whatever you want you big baby face to him. I bite my tongue.
IS IT BOTHERING YOU! He says.
Not at all I say in my best phoney voice.
On the drive home, because that’s how I roll, I replay it. Hmm Is it bothering you… What the hell kind of a thing is that to say? Who raised you? Aliens? You old shit. Wouldn’t the appropriate response be sort of like, um… Gee thanks.
Wait til I have a cute walker dude.
Thanks for stopping by.