This is why I didn't show up for work yesterday. I was cleaning out my wife's grandpa's cellar and found 12 bottles of his home-bottled grape wine under the steps. My wife told me to empty the contents of each and every bottle down the sink, or else. I agreed to do the unpleasant task.





I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink, with the exception of one glass, which I drank. I extracted the cork from the second bottle, did likewise, and drank one glass, just to check the taste to see if the old fellow knew his wine making. He did.



I then opened the third bottle, and poured it, too, down the sink, but not until drinking one full glass to check the purity. It was very good. I did this, also with the fourth bottle. One glass for myself, and the rest down the sink. I pulled the bottle from the cork of the next, and drank one sink out of it and threw the rest down the glass. I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork from the bottle, then corked the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour.



When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand, counted the bottles, corks, glasses and sinks with the other, which were 29, and as the house came by I counted them again, and finally had all the houses in one bottle, which I 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.





