I’m coming out of my spring alcohol chastity — today is my “get out of jail date.” But now there’s a problem….
This really happened yesterday, but first I have to set up the story with a little background.
Each year, I go “cold turkey” on all alcohol consumption. Not a margarita. Not a highball. Not a bottle of champagne. Not even a glass of wine. I tend to do this once in the spring and once in the fall.
I’m coming out of my spring alcohol chastity (today is my “get out of jail date”). I was even considering extending it a few more days, or perhaps another week. No particular reason. Just an idea, and a temptation. A reverse temptation. Dyslexic alcoholism.
Then yesterday, Marieta was browsing online and she found a wine refrigerator for sale at a bargain price and she wanted to get it. Private seller, big house, closeby. The seller wanted only $75 for a wine fridge that holds about 100 bottles, and we’ve got about 400-500 bottles, including lots of strays hanging out waiting for a bunk. Also, no, I’m not a wine collector. Inevitably, we have somehow “collected” dozens of amazing wines, but I keep them to drink them, not to sell them, or show them off. Okay, maybe I show them off a little.
So, we go to pick up the fridge and when we arrive, it’s completely stocked with wine! About 60 bottles inside. We told the lady we just wanted the fridge, and then she nearly blew me away with the next sentence that flowed from her mouth like a love sonnet.
“Oh, you can have ALL the wines. I was going to throw them away. I don’t drink wine.”
<insert pause for full effect>
Once I recovered from near fainting, I learned she’s going through an ugly divorce (hooray, let’s hear it for ugly divorces!) and “liquidating” the lot. Yeah, liquidating is the perfect word, isn’t it? Anyway, she’s ditching hubby’s wine stash. That poor bastard (I hope the younger piece-of-tail was worth it). Oh well, hubby’s loss is my gain!
I couldn’t believe this, so I fished $75 bucks out of my pocket quicker than paper being lit on fire and told her I’d be happy to take the cooler and entire wine stock off her hands. I like helping out people.
We gathered all the bottles, dollied the fridge out the door, then loaded it up, and hauled it home. Back home in the garage, I felt like Dillinger counting the money in the bag after a bank robbery. Sixty bottles. Sixty Christmas mornings.
About half the wines were very pedestrian. Another quarter was above average. And 15 bottles or so were rare treasures. Mind you, there was nothing life-changing here. No 1961 Petrus Pomerols in the bunch. But I found a 1999 Dom Perignon (Note: I loathe Dom Perignon, but hey, it’s Dom Perignon). Lots of reds from the 1990s (sadly, California, not France). But there was one 1994 E. Guigal Hermitage. I even discovered a 1987 Jadot Beaujolais Villages, which is really ironic because that’s an economy wine intended to be drunk young. So, I have no idea what to expect with a 35-year-old Beaujolais.
And so, here’s where the “dilemma” arises.
It’s as though fate has put me to the test here. I’d like to go another week, maybe longer, on my sabbatical. But that Hermitage is calling me in the night. That 1987 Beaujolais is begging to be rescued from captivity.
I honestly don’t know what to do. I’ll post updates on my first-world whine problems once I make a decision.