Bill got home late tonight after spending the afternoon with the Scouts at a campsite. He stinks of smoke.
We talked for a bit, and then he got a beer glass. "Don't get too much," I told him. "I'm going up to bed in a minute."
"I just need a nightcap," he said.
He returned from the kegerator with a half glass, took a mouthful and gagged.
"Is it skunked?" I asked. It was. I fear the children may have knocked the plug out of the wall. We keep the beer in the playroom, of course. The keg was nearing the end anyway, so it was ok that it skunked out.
But not really ok, since it is 10 pm on a Saturday night in Georgia!
"Quick! Go to Publix before it closes!" I urged. Putting his shoes back on and heading out was the last thing he wanted to do, but if he didn't..."If you don't buy some beer tonight, you'll have to drive all the way to South Carolina tomorrow!" Actually, I don't know that South Carolina sells alcohol on Sunday either...perhaps Florida does. Oh, I hope Florida does since we may move there next. But certainly, a 2 minute drive across the street is much better than hoofing it to another state just so you can have a nice drink while you watch football.
He has returned, successful. I can now go to bed, and sleep peacefully knowing that he will be a happy man tomorrow.