There is a bottle of champagne in the back of my fridge waiting to be consumed Tuesday night.
I will either drink it to celebrate what I hope will be a Biden/Harris victory (or at least will look like one) or down it to drown my sorrows over a possible Trump reelection.
That bottle of champagne in the back of my fridge knows the way in which it will be indulged, but has kept mum.
That bottle of champagne knows if our 244-year-old American experiment in democracy will live or die, but not a peep.
That bottle of champagne that stares back at me every time I open the refrigerator door knows I’m neverous with anticipation, but not a hint.
Oh, the hell with you! I’m taking you out right now! Yes, I know it’s only 9 am on a Sunday but this waiting game, this uncertainty, has gotten to me.
But not to worry, my perfectly chilled friend . There is a six-pack of Stella Artois ready to take your place come election night.
Photo | delish.com