I didn’t show up for work yesterday for this reason.
Twelve bottles of my wife’s grandfather’s homemade grape wine were discovered beneath the stairs as I was clearing out his cellar.
My spouse warned me that if I didn’t empty every bottle down the sink, she would
I took on the disagreeable chore.
With the exception of one glass, which I drank, I removed the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the drain.
I removed the cork from the second bottle, followed suit, and took a sip to test if the elderly man was a skilled winemaker.
Yes, he did.
I used the fourth bottle to do the same.
I’ll have one glass for myself and discard the others.
I took the bottle off the cork of the subsequent one, took a sip, and discarded the remaining contents into the glass.
I took the sink out of the subsequent glass, removed the cork from the bottle, corked the sink using the glass, sealed the beverage, and took a sip.
After emptying everything, I used one hand to steady the house while I counted the bottles, corks, glasses, and sinks with the other. I repeated this counting as the house passed, until I had all the homes in one bottle, which I then drank.
I felt so foolish that I couldn’t go upstairs and congratulate my wife to tell her what a great winemaker her grandpa was.
I will do that after climbing the basement steps the next time they come by.