the bottled revenge

My colleagues have been telling me that I am too thin…

I certainly do admit that I could gain some muscle mass, or fat in any case, especially when winter this year is predicted to be the worst in many years…

However, the derelict twist of events this evening has had me consoling myself for my waistline….

since yesterday, I have had the strongest urge to drink the bottle of red wine that I bought a couple of days ago…

largely because of the fact that I am anal about the way I drink wine, I convinced myself that I must head down to Marks & Spencers to get some proper red wine glasses to drink from… as I didn’t have any in the flat.

Thus happily I skipped along and did a little of grocery shopping, walked back gaily with a grin on my face… and I froze, dead in my tracks.

My left back pocket of my jeans was empty. Fuck.

a bunch of tinkling metal objects, better known as my house keys, were not there in its usual place in my jeans… such a predicament any other night would easily be rectified, for my flat-mates were usually home at this time.

One was still in Cambridge while the other is out partying, probably till late…

In a state of utter shock, I hung my plastic bag of groceries on my door knob and in a stupor, headed across the street to the convenience store, got myself a can of beer and walked a little around the neighbourhood contemplating about the mysteries of the universe…

In other words I was truely devastated but ultimately, alcohol proves yet again to be a good trauma treatment and bringer of the light as a brilliant, but utterly ‘lost form’ idea sprung to mind…

I know, for certain that I did not lock my kitchen window, which is accessible from my backyard, nicely hoarded by a neat row of wooden planked fence…

Yes, I live on the ground floor.

Yes, I could climb over the 1.6m high wooden fence into my backyard.

Yes, no one would probably see me and think I’m a burglar as it’s dark

All these thought and done, the crucial obstacle remains :

The fucking window swings open a mere 15 centimetres…

So not before I took off my thick winter coat, removed my fat wallet, unbuckled my Fossil watch and removed my belt, did I successfully heaved myself through the miserable window gap and stand victoriously atop my kitchen sink…

My bottle of red has never tasted sweeter…