You know, because adversity has a face, and it’s most definitely square.
Sometimes life hands you lemons, and if you’re me, you grab a glass of wine and make some bangin’ sangria.
But sometimes, life hands you presents neatly wrapped with pretty packaging and bows on top. You know, like the ones you’re thinking about the entire time your grandmother is talking about pickling olives or how she’s trying a new foot cream.
That’s how I feel when I’m at work and I know there’s a big, fat bottle of wine waiting for me when I get home.
Among other things, like food and water, I think that wine is a necessary part of my diet. It’s just that one little slice (okay, it’s like two slices, and they’re pretty big) that makes up the pizza of sanity I need while I’m here on earth.
I was minding my own business, ready to indulge in Pinot Noir bliss, when disaster struck.
Using my mustache wine opener, because I’m trendy as hell, I attempted to open the bottle. Right when I’m about to remove the cork, the mustache part of the corkscrew popped off.
And suddenly, I was left with this obstacle to overcome.
True to form, I am not one to step away from a challenge.
First I tried using my sheer, brute strength to open the bottle, but my fingers can’t grip tight enough, and frankly, I’m weaker than a newborn baby, so my efforts failed.
I know what you’re thinking, “Hey Meg, why don’t you just give up and not drink the wine tonight? Maybe have a glass of ice water and go to bed?”
And to that I say, “Shame on you.” I never leave the scene of a crime.
I struggled with my decision to continue my attempt at opening the Elusive Yellowtail until I realized that I had pliers and a brain.
I took the pliers, and reversed the corkscrew out of the bottle.
Instead of going to bed by 830pm, I was up a little longer. But what I learned through this entire ordeal, is that if you want something, you may just have to use the toolset your father gave you for Christmas that you bitched about because it was a manly gift and you’re a woman who would prefer to not be lumped into group gifts just because you have three brothers.
So, thank you, Father. Thank you for that majestic tool set. I will never complain again. (Don’t quote me on that.)