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.
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