So, back on December 14th, I wrote that I'd managed to score myself some bottles of yummy Alaskan Smoked Porter. I estimated that those fifteen bottles, with proper discipline, should last me for a year.
Well, tonight I'm drinking my last bottle.
Between my ever-loosening definition of "special occasion" and my totally understandable desire to share my favorite beer with my favorite person, I'm down to one bottle.
I'd been thinking that I should at least save it until my birthday, but now I'm going to Las Vegas for my birthday. And I'll probably be able to buy some Alaskan Smoked Porter there.
Plus, it's been one of the worst weeks I've ever had, so I fucking deserve to have this last bottle tonight.
My only regret is that my swing is gone. I'd love to be able to sit on my swing with this lovely beer. As it is, I'll just sit out in my garage like a sucker.