(no subject)
Bleh. Turning the temp up in my fridge for cheese aging purposes meant raising it apparently just a little more than one of the poor beers therein could stand, and it took its own life in a rather violent, sticky, oozing all over my kitchen floor and gluing shards to a lot of other bottles kind of way. Because a week without getting a glass cut is like a woman without a bicycle.
(It was only a tiny one. And last week's is nearly healed.)
(It was only a tiny one. And last week's is nearly healed.)