I’m Old, I’m Old. I Wear My Pantlegs Rolled.
The deep dark days of early October weigh heavy on my mind….
It’s not even time to “fall back” and get an extra hour of sleep due to the switch from daylight savings time to standard time.
Sixteen tons of fermenting grapes inside the winery laugh at me. ‘You think you can make us wine? Ha!” “We taunt you, winemaker boy!” “Our sugar will defeat you and our inherent bacterial load will beat you down and make you cringe in the face of our superiority!” “We laugh at you like an illegitimate red-haired stepchild!”
Ok. Time for bed. And less gin and tonic.