I know, I know, I know, I know ...
John left for Mechanicsburg, PA, this morning. He's there for work and will be gone until Friday, which, by the by, is the most important day of the year. While he's out enjoying the hot hot nightlife in Mechanicsburg (even the name sounds HOT), I'll be at his house sitting the dog. Fun times. At least the hot tub is working again. YAY!
Who wants to come over to entertain me?
My other plans for the week sans John are to drive his truck around and do lots of shopping! Yay! Plus, I told Robert I would help him get his new (to him) microwave home. Today is likker-buying day: gin, vodka, bourbon, and vermouth.
I think Likker-Buying Day should be some sort of national event in which everyone, young, old, black, white, goes to their local likker store to buy likker. Wouldn't that be fun and help to foster a sense of community? I think so.
Having grown up in the Bible Belt (as John said the other day after I mentioned something about shopping at the Winn-Dixie, "Excuse me, but your Southern is showing"), I am used to having to buy likker at separate stores. In North Carolina, they are called ABC (Alcoholic Beverage Control) stores. Here, we just have likker stores.
However, I remember the first summer I worked in San Fransisco (at SFSU). My co-worker and friend, Andi, and I walked to the grocery store to buy staples [y'know, bread, peanut butter, a couple cases of beer]. As we were wandering amongst the aisles, Andi said in her Oklahoman drawl, "Oh. My. Gawd. They sell likker here!"
Sure enough, in the midst of the wine and beer was a row of sweet sweet hard likker. AT THE GROCERY STORE! Do you people understand the implications of that? No special trips to a separate store? No extra hassle? While you're buying olives for your dirty martini, you can also buy the martini! It boggles the mind. We stood there for a moment staring at the rows and rows of booze. It was like we had died and gone to heaven. Likker. At the grocery store.
We hurried back to the camp to tell the other teachers. We found a few of them sitting outside. Breathlessly, we told them what we had discovered. "They sell likker here. At the grocery store!" They stared at us like we were crazy. "LIKKER! AT THE GROCERY STORE!"
It was like we were talking to the wall. Sometimes I think it was all a dream.
And in the writing world, we call that "completely going off topic." [What? There was a topic?] Anyway, this weekend (Sat and Sun), John's taking me to Philadelphia. I must remember to call the kennel today.