She sure likes her juice!

On occasion, I have a glass of wine with dinner. Not every night, and usually not at all during the week. But if I do open a bottle to accompany my flat iron steak (a delicious cut of meat, highly recommended) I have a tendency to have a glass of "juice" several nights in a row simply to not let the bottle go to waste. After all, who wants to be wasteful?

Why am I calling it juice? The joke is that I drink the wine out of a juice glass. An Ikea juice glass, the best $0.60/each I ever spent.

Why a juice glass? Two reasons.

1. Washing and drying a single wine glass is a huge pain: my Reidels are quite delicate and require TLC.

2. The dishwasher: as a single female living alone my dishwasher is run about once every three weeks. I all but wash each dish before placing it inside. However, I have an extremely active imagination and I have managed to dream up every horrible demise that could possibly befall me. This, despite being a revoltingly optimistic person. Following to my premature death I see my heartbroken parents coming to my home to clear out my belongings. [Let's be honest, it would be more of a looting situation.] My mother opens the dishwasher...and finds it full of wine glasses.

Trust me, I am not worried in the least about either of my parents questioning my drinking -they of ALL people should not question an other's drinking- but I would simply hate for anyone to think I was home alone sucking down wine and hiding bottles in the garbage.

Because part of my overactive imagination is envisioning the scenario that would play out in their minds upon discovering a dishwasher full of wine glasses: Tish, in sweats and glasses, quietly opens the door to the hallway late at night. She pauses, listening intently to ensure no one is coming, then tip-toes out and heads for the stairs, quietly lugging a Hefty bag bulging in numerous places with empty wine bottles and the occasional wine box. The bottles in the bag clink together and Tish cringes, fearful of what the neighbors would think if they saw her toting the garbage bag of shame down to the recycling bins...

Rather, it comforts me to think that when the dishwasher is opened by my family they will see plates, bowls, forks, knives, spoons...and a whole lot of juice glasses. Which will prompt them to say "Wow, she sure liked her juice!"

Indeed, I do.