Oh yes I do. It’s because it was cheap, came in a very attractive bottle, and was 5.5%ABV. It is, therefore, high on anaesthetizing function and kind on the pocket, even though the taste buds are left standing around saying ‘what the hell are we doing here?’
Tonight I was going to make the post on whether age brings wisdom, but I don’t think I‘ll bother. I might make it tomorrow or I might not. The problem with tomorrows is that they always bring the dreaded imperative to get out of bed wondering whether I’ll survive another day in a human body, whether I’ll fall apart, or whether I’ll stay inside my shell and hope that nobody wants to say ‘hello.’ They usually don’t.
Do I know where hell is? Hell is in ‘hello.’
~ Paint Your Wagon.
Priestesses, the Venerable Borg, and Lady B’s ghost are excepted.