We were all set for dinner. The table was being set, the food was almost done, I just needed to grab a drink and my duties were all but finished. That’s when I noticed, I was out of beer.
Coincidentally, my wife was making a quick run to the store for a few things. I batted my eyes and in the nicest voice I had asked if she could grab me a beer to go with dinner. We were having Chinese food so I asked for something light. “Not Bud Light ‘light,’ but you know….something ‘light.'” She stared at me like I was an idiot thenleft for the store.
I was worried. I knew the store she was going to had quite a beer selection, but it also had quite a fizzy yellow beer selection as well. I had mentioned the word lager and feared she would return with a big can of Fosters. Thankfully there are three sections of beer at this store: fine crafts/micros in 22 ounces and 6 piacks, a wall of widely distrubted macros and “premium” macros, and the wall of death. She knows where I liked to spend my free time while in that store so I hoped that’s where she was headed.
Fifteen minutes later I saw her car pull into the driveway. Like a kid expecting a toy I greeted her at the door and offered to help unpack. She could tell it was phony. “Go away, I don’t need any help.” That’s when she reached in to the bag and grabbed what I was waiting for.
My wonderful amazing jewel of a wife bought be a nice large bottle of Racer 5 India Pale Ale. A little stronger and hoppier than what I had been envisioning, but let’s face it, Racer 5 is never a bad thing. It went perfectly with dinner. Thank you, honey. I guess you really do love me.