Footsteps From Addiction
I once was the shoe girl: the one people could count on to be wearing new ones, fun ones, uncomfortable ones. You might catch me stretching my leg out to admire my lovely shoes and good taste in buying them. Large portions of my credit card bill and my first non-fiction essay were dedicated to them. After a point, it became a sickness.
Now I am the wine girl.
I love to bring bottles home, pull them out of the box or bag, then sit in front of the small wine cooler next to my refrigerator. The draw? It’s the challenge of deciding what goes in and what must go somewhere else. Also known as what’s age-worthy and what’s not. Or trying to rearrange more artfully to get in one extra bottle and still be able to close the door
So when I say that I didn’t bring any wine home from the winery I visited two weeks ago that is not to say I’m fighting the addiction to drinking. The disease is deeper than that. It’s the desire to have more bottles. Wine for categorizing, choices for different cuisines, the ability to offer friends their favorite variety. It is the collecting, the possessing, the ability to hold it in my hand.
As with the shoes, the key is not to think about the purcases in terms of dollar signs. Better to enjoy on an individual basis. However, unlike shoes (which may be worn a hundred times), the bottle that was beyond my budget can only be drunk the one time. After that, I have to rely on my unreliable memory. Of course, that gives me an excuse to replace those bottles.
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POSTED IN: wine as it relates to life
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