…and then more bugs

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So No N calls me. She’s got stroganoff.


I go over, I bring a bottle of wine. So far, so good.

I make it in the house without any major calamities, we eat, we pour a glass of wine.

I go outside to take a phone call. I come back in.

A fly is swimming in my freshly poured glass of wine.

Why not? It’s a day for bugs.

I consider. No N and I discuss this development. At length.

Finally, I go grab a spoon.

Alcohol sterilizes shit, and I’m sure as hell not wasting a nice, fresh glass of wine.

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