In case you ever thought a writer’s life was non-stop glamor
This is me cleaning out our garage because we moved in six years ago and we still have stuff in boxes out there. Including a bunch of tools that I could have used over the last six years, but whatever.
This is also me wearing a red Budweiser hat that I’d crocheted for a specific event a number of years ago (no, I don’t normally wear hats like this). I don’t drink beer, but I had to buy a six pack for the cans. Ramón took a sip of the beer, pronounced it, “Diabetic cat urine,” and poured out all six cans into the sink. Europeans — I ask you.
The hat wound up being stored in a bag with yarn and various crocheting implements (once again, could have used these over the last six years) until I stumbled across it yesterday. All I know is that somewhere, out there, is a Budweiser fan who desperately needs this hat.
And I intend to give it to him. As soon as humanly possible.