Finally it’s the weekend,
and the wine in my refrigerator doesn’t have to attack me anymore while trying
to get my undivided attention.
You know how refrigerators
have compartments in the door that open out a bit so you can get tall bottles
into them? Well, every single morning
for the last week, that bottom door compartment has been popping open, and I
have to shove it closed again, fitting the two wine bottles back into their
proper place. I like wine, but not first
thing in the morning while trying to make my lunch for work.
It goes something like
this:
ME: (opening
fridge) Time to make my lunch!
WINE: (popping out
at me from the fridge door)
Surprise! It’s Monday!
ME: Get back in
there. I’ll be home later.
[Next day…]
WINE: Good morning!
ME: No. It’s 6:15 a.m. I told you yesterday. Later!
[Next day…]
WINE: SURPRISE!
ME: You said that
Monday.
WINE: Yeah, but it
didn’t work Monday.
ME: And it’s not
going to work today. (Kicking
compartment closed) Back in ya go.
[Next day…]
WINE: We’re waiting!
ME: Shit, you
scared me that time.
WINE: Why, weren’t
you expecting us to do our usual routine?
ME: Yes, but today
I’m awfully tempted. Ooops, look at the
time! Gotta go!
[Friday…]
ME: Wine? Are you there? … Hello? HELLO?!
[Saturday…]
WINE: (singing) Everybody’s working for the weekend!
ME: Hmmmm, the
clock says 8:42, but I know damn well it’s noontime somewhere.
The bad news is that my
wine talks to and attacks me. The good
news is that it’s still the weekend, and I ultimately have control of the
fridge … for now, anyway. Hold on. I think there are voices coming out of the
door in my fridge. It sounds like the
wine bottles are reading “The Cask of Amontillado.” Uh, should I be worried? Hello?
HELLO? Can anybody hear ---
