Once upon a Merlot…
January 30, 2007
When will I learn my lesson? Wine, no matter how much I enjoy it, WILL make me sick. Is it the acidity? Is it the cunning potency? Perhaps if I knew the reason, I could prevent the inevitable dive to the hard rock bottom of surprise inebriation. Perhaps I could resist the seduction of that warm, ever-so-gentle bite that loves you all the way down and conspires to keep you that way.
“No! Reject!” says my body. Head spinning, gut wrenching, I rave against the stupidity of my lapse in judgement, genuinely ignorant of the turn that brought me to this miserable state. Torn between the need to purge and the desire to be unconscious, I hover shakily in a dreadful limbo.
And there stands my friend. One of a handful who would do the same, he watches my grotesque dive into self-absorbed nausea, faithfully reminding himself of the need for timely oversight in matters of love. With a little luck, he won’t remind me of my fool’s descent into absolute squalor. Skin, teeth and hair can be cleaned, and most stains are easily lifted from blue jeans. Well, except for red wine. That doesn’t come out.
