I’ve been sober for so long that if I attended Alcoholics Anonymous, I’d surely earn some sobriety badge. My tea-totalling (coffee-totalling) stint didn’t spring from asceticism or masochism, but from a regrettable incident in which my corkscrew broke. It split into two when I was using it to open a bottle of wine, which is shocking, because the corkscrew was clearly a fashionable decorative item and wasn’t intended to be used.
This happy day, though, I received a package from the shop where I bought the poor late corkscrew (RIP) and where I complained of the poor quality of their products and threatened to sue for psychological trauma (no, I didn’t), and the package contained a new corkscrew. What a delight! I purchased a bottle of wine for meal tickets (I didn’t, but poetic licence) and tested the new arrival. It worked.
I spent the evening sipping a lovely glass of pink wine which cost more than it should but was totally worth it. I went to bed almost happy (I’m never happy, but it was a near miss), and I dreamt that I killed two people. (I hope I dreamt it.) One with a hammer, another with a sword (!). I wasn’t much upset about the atrocity of the crimes as rather about my lack of ideas where to dump the bodies. I shouldn’t drink before bed. That, or I shouldn’t watch crime series.