So, last night was Book Club. We use the term "Book Club" rather loosely. It's more of a women's gathering wherein food and alcoholic beverages are consumed whilst all manner of relevant and non-relevant topics are disected. And there's a book. A book that maybe some of us have finished and maybe some of us haven't. And we "discuss" it. A little. And then we move on to more important things like stories about shopping with our respective mothers, and how today's teenagers are so spoiled, and how we used to sneak in at night after being out after curfew. And so on and so forth until we have polished off a few bottles of wine and it is past our bedtimes.
As a bonus last night, I gave a convincing demonstration of what a complete spaz I am by obliterating a wine glass into a thousand tiny shards expertly scattered into every corner of the living room. Yup. What can I say? Things like this just happen to me.
Well okay, maybe not "just happen". Perhaps I should not have set my wine glass on the arm of the sofa. On an unstable foundation of a wobbly leather coaster. Perhaps I should not have left said wine glass in the structurally unsound environment while I went to put pumpkin cheese dip on my plate. Perhaps I should not have carelessly plopped down onto the couch upon my return thus schooching it back a bit and causing my wine glass to teeter, and fall crashing in slow motion to the hardwood floor below. Perhaps.
Of course I was horrified and of course I apologized and of course Jen and Terah acted as if they broke wineglasses all the time and went around cleaning up shards of glass during their free time just for fun. And I felt stupid and spazzy and was grateful that it was white wine.
I really should only be allowed to drink wine out of coffee mugs...or sippy cups.