They say it’s healthy to drink a glass of wine after dinner. So we keep a bottle in the house, even though we rarely exercise the good habit.
When the earthquake hit last week, it must’ve cracked under the “excitement”. All it needed was a gentle push of the shelf before the old scar reopened, turned into fresh wounds, and it, snapped into two.
After airing out the room for a day, my nose can still sniff out the faint scent of what resembles a load of stinky, smelly, dirty socks. Yuck. Worse than the spilled tequila smell my roommate’s boyfriend brought with his luggage when he came to visit from England.
Fermented liquid is going to be something I’ll stay away from. I’m good with just grape juice.