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Sometime last week, Parker said, “I have an idea. When we run out of alcohol on top of the fridge, let’s just not buy anymore for awhile.”

This would be fine if we had any decent alcohol, possibly some left over from a party or if we recently bought some. As it was, it sounded like a terrible idea to me, but as I figured my husband was trying to find a nice way to call me an alcoholic without having to have an intervention. I would rather be asked than have an alcohol cabinet that I don’t possess a key to, so I said, “Ummmm, okay.”

I got a little ballsier that night and said, “I hope you’re okay with that though.”

“Okay with what?” Parker asked.

“Me kind of being a bitch since I have nothing to drink. We can do that, and that’s fine. I am going to get cranky though, and I wanted to warn you ahead of time.”

Last night, I came home and looked at the top of the fridge. There was some older icky tequila that I refuse to drink. It was exactly on the middle part of the top of the fridge, and it’s not good enough to get the step ladder. The only other things left were extremely old gin, and triple sec. So, I just had some triple sec in a glass with some sort of fruit juice.

I got annoyed, because what is the point of having alcohol no one is going to drink? The gin represents something I could drink, but nothing I would want to. Parker doesn’t, nor has he ever, liked it. Thus, I threw it away, because it’s been here a year. No one wants it. In fact, it was so bad that it has put a permanent curse on my taste for gin. I USED to love it, but those days are behind me now. So I threw the bottle in the garbage.

Parker called at the end of his work day today. I was already home. He called me like three times in a row, and on the third one I was finally in the same room as the phone so I picked up.

Me: Hey, stalker. Way to call me like three times.

Parker: I was surprised you didn’t pick up.

Me: Well, I was doubled over in pain in the other room, because my butt decided to fall off for some stupid reason.

Parker: Aw, that sucks. I’m at the store. What do you say to wine or beer?

Me: …What? I thought we weren’t buying anymore alcohol.

Parker: Yeah, we weren’t, but I have two days off in a row, and you have your weekend coming up too. Also, you didn’t sound like you were a fan of that.

Me: I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it.

Parker: Oookay. What do you want, wine or beer?

Me: I’m not feeling too awesome right now, but I may feel better tomorrow or later today. I’d prefer wine, but if you get beer, that’s okay too.

Parker: Okay.

Me: Wait, what? Does that mean you’re getting wine or beer? Or both?

Parker: I could get both.

Me: …I don’t understand.

Parker: I’m okay with buying wine and beer. I am not okay with you finishing off an entire bottle of hard alcohol by yourself.

Me: What are you talking about?

Parker: You drank a whole bottle of alcohol.

Me: What? No, there was like one shot left in that tequila, and I drank that a few days ago.

Parker: No, the other bottle.

Me: What OTHER bottle? Last night, I just had like a glass or two of the triple sec and some juice. That tequila is too high for me to get to.

Parker: I’m talking about the gin.

Me: What? Eww, no! I threw that away.

Parker: You did?

Me: YES!!! It’s like a year old and was here in the middle of the SUMMER. No one is going to drink it.

Parker: …Oh.

Me: How would it even be possible for me to drink that much? That was like 2/3 of a big bottle!

Parker: I don’t know. [Pause.] I thought maybe that’s why your butt was falling off.

Me: No way. I felt good when I woke up today. I wouldn’t have been able to go to work or anything if I drank all that! And I would go into work hungover, so I WOULDN’T drink all that to begin with. Not even our most alcoholic of friends would drink that.

What I forgot when I threw the gin away was that I poured it all down the sink and then tossed the bottle in the bin. Parker found the empty bottle and was concerned that I would apparently never stop drinking? I don’t know. I may drink a lot, but even I won’t stoop to the point where I’m drinking shitty, old gin. Maybe there will come a point where that happens, but that point was not last night.

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