it’s raining beer. hallelujah, it’s raining beer.

my windows are wide open right now. there’s a tornado watch and thunderstorm warning and big ole wind gusts happening at the moment. and yet, i laugh at danger and welcome the fresh air in. why? because my kitchen currently smells like a frat house the day after a huge bash. oh, that, plus some lemony-fresh ammonia, which i used to wash the damn floor.

it’s the smell of an evil, poisonous shandy.

now, why, you might ask, is my house so odiforous that i am probably taking years off my life or at least giving myself some weird, kooky contact high? well, you see. we don’t drink a whole lot in this house. it isn’t like we’re opposed; in fact, we like indy-brewed beers, and me, i like a nice aussie shi-razzz, as i pronounce it. we just don’t get a big chance to drink all that much. i mean, BS spent the weekend doing painting and other major house-y tasks, and while i found one emptied bottle of beer in the recycling, i found an entire six pack of yoohoo lite. that pretty much sums us up in a nutshell.

but the remainder of said beer and other assorted bottled drinks was perched precariously atop our fridge. so this morning, when a certain someone who was half-asleep (we won’t mention names, i’ll just look at the party and whistle) vigorously opened the freezer door, the entire six-pack crashed to the kitchen floor. glass and beer were everywhere. there was much gnashing of teeth. it was not a pretty scene.

so here i was, ready to tackle the world today. and instead, i am burning cycles trying to pick up all the teeny shards and tyring to keep my house from stinkin’ like Plank Road.


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