‘a new bottle of whine’ or ‘there will be blood’

Blood

This is not a photo from a Cronenberg movie

I am not really a wine drinker. It lacks the excitement, the enthusiasm of a nice, cold beer.

That being said, I don’t mind the contrast every once in awhile.  So yesterday I purchased what I thought would be a nice shiraz, with every intent to drink it sometime this weekend…

Till, in a ill-fated effort to wash the dishes that have been sitting in my sink way too long, I accidentally knocked it to the floor.  It was almost like in the movies when something falls in slow motion.

The bottle exploded upon impact, spreading wine and glass all over the floor, which created a number of interesting problems.

The most pressing being that I was barefoot (I live alone, so I tend to dress very comfortably, which usually means nothing at all.  Don’t judge me) and I didn’t want to get a piece of glass in my foot.

Which, despite my best efforts to clean up, happens more often that I’d like to admit.

In fact, the last time I broke something I caught a small piece of glass in my foot, which I carried around – literally – for a few weeks.

I even went jogging with it in my foot.  I was lucky that I didn’t manage to come in contact with any of the bones of my foot because things would have got really interesting, as in – if a infection resulted – in possibly losing part of my foot.

Which would have went beyond ‘sucked,’ and moved into the painfully surreal.

Having had this happen once before, I put on some sandals as soon as I could, though now I not only had to wash (some) dishes, but mop the floor.

Now, here’s where things get really interesting.

Which I was, oddly enough, OK with.

Emptying the garbage was also on my ‘To Do’ list, and this was a great time to do it, since I topped it off with the newspaper I used to absorb the spilled wine.  I reached into the garbage, to press it down so I could close the bag, and felt a sudden, sharp pain in my pinky finger.

I assumed – wrongly –that the newspaper had covered the glass I had just threw away.  As a result I slit my finger, which bled copiously.  I hadn’t had a wound to my fingers in awhile, so I had forgotten how much they bleed, as the picture above illustrates.

And the moral of the story is…if you’re a single guy, stick with beer.  Wine is more hoity-toity, but beer is safer, and much less likely to end up wasted on the kitchen floor.

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