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.