Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

In my hometown, we are “Progressives;” we can buy beer and wine in grocery stores on Sundays — if it is after twelve noon, when church services are over. Whiskey and Rhy are still not for sale on Sundays, we do have some morals left concerning the Lord’s Day. When the partial alcohol sales began, I started buying groceries on Sunday and would bebop to the store after church, delighted to avoid the Saturday morning shopping rush. One Sunday I went to early mass, left church at 10:00 and headed for the store to buy a six-pack among other necessities. As I put the beer on the conveyor belt, the cashier told me that I could not buy alcohol before noon. Not really noting the time of my shopping trip, I exclaimed, “but I always buy beer after church.” No sale.

As usual I went to the store today for regular shopping after church services. I spent about twelve minutes selecting a bottle of Pinot Noir, criteria being, it must come from the old world, I must like the name, and not cost over ten dollars. I settled for a California wine named Vampire on sale for $9.99 – two out of three had to do. Then within the next eight minutes I completed the shopping selecting the other essentials including cat food, beer, milk, bread and toilet paper. I threw these items in the cart in order to cover the fact that I just needed a bottle of wine. I live simply.

I checked out of the store,  surprised that it totaled over one hundred dollars, but I had my Vampire wine and I was happy. When I got all those annoying plastic bags in the house – in one trip – overloaded, I dropped the bottle of wine on the tile floor in the kitchen. Glass bottles do not bounce on tile floors; they shatter. The good news is all the glass stayed in the bag, the bad news is the liquid did not. Red wine everywhere, the smell was intoxicating. I believe the old saying is don’t cry over spilled milk, but a ten dollar bottle of wine? I shed a few tears.