So, Boy Scout and I were following our normal old couple evening routine. We took our wine and our dogs outside and begged them to take their final poop so we could go up and watch our “stories”. Our current story is Hand of God. It’s the one with that bastard Clay (which I can only say with an Irish accent), from Sons of Anarchy. He has more hair in this show and it’s super white. He really does have great hair, but I’m so distracted by his Neanderthal face and body.
Anyway, the pups pooped and we went inside. Boy Scout headed upstairs and I grabbed that laaaasssst ‘lil splash of wine to take up with me. I mean, I couldn’t just leave it there. I also grabbed the shoes I wore to work (I don’t trust my pups after losing 4 pairs of flip flops already) and carefully carried them and my wine up the stairs.
By the time I got upstairs, the skies had opened, and we had ourselves a storm. A BIG one. Boy Scout (a.k.a. Meteorologist Boy Scout) was glued to the bedroom window in amazement.
I entered the room and right about the time I was about to walk by him, lightning struck. REALLY CLOSE and REALLY LOUD. Boy Scout yelled and jumped backwards, HITTING MY WINE HOLDING ELBOW! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Thank God I had a death grip on my glass (per usual), but it SLOSHED. Have you ever just sloshed your glass? Just a teeny bit? Isn’t it amazing how far the liquid can reach? The speed and trajectory is dumbfounding.
There was wine on me, him, the bed, the rug, and…MY SHOES!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I didn’t give a rip about any of that other shit, but MY SHOES!!! Well, and the thought of this mishap cutting into our story time, as we have a very specific window of time to squeeze in a show or two before my bewitching hour (9:30).
I could tell Boy Scout was nervous, as he pretty much just accepts the blame for anything that goes wrong in the house by default, and he knows how much I love MY SHOES.
After screaming “MY SHOES!!!” multiple times, I set down my glass (never dropped it!) and started emergency clean up – of my shoes. Boy Scout sprang into action on the rug. And after some experience in this area, we keep a bottle of Wine Away in the house at all times. I’m thinking our house would be purple by now if we hadn’t already gone through about 3 bottles of this miracle in a bottle already. It is the BEST thing in the world for removing wine stains. In fact, it took out red wine from a white leather chair, like a boss. Gone. That was one Christmas when the “grandmothers got tipsy” as my daughter puts it.
So, crisis averted, and we carried on with our stories (only one…sigh) and what was left of that last ‘lil splash.
It’s not the first time a spill has occurred, and it won’t be the last. Keeping in real there.
My shoes survived, there’s no evidence on the rug and I didn’t notice the bed until a few days later, so that’s still there. Whatever. As mom would say, “Oh well, just ‘Clorox’ it.” Actually, she would have gone into ninja mode, stripped the bed, and started pre-soaking. It might be too late for the Wine Away on that one area, but Diann is coming up soon for a visit so she can do an in-depth expert analysis. She’s like the friggin’ stain whisperer.
Wine spills suck but they happen…a lot. It’s not as terrible when you are drinking an inexpensive one like this Old Vine Zin by Bogle, a decent “every day” wine. I think that’s what we were having…they all start to run together.
Wine spills happen. Shit happens. In so many ways. I’ll take an occasional wine spill over LOTS of other of life’s spills. Clean it up and move on.
While writing this, I was inspired to create a quick Wine Down playlist, including one of my all time favorite sultry, smokey Bonnie Raitt tunes (speaking of someone who’s had their share of shit).
Cheers to you and I wish you a spill free day.
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