If I suck it up in the carpet cleaner, can it be saved?
That fateful Saturday started like any other. We drank our coffee. The children read books. I lint-rolled dog hair off the sofa.
I had just finished organizing the children's books ROYGBIV style. Matt was off for the day, heading to the Bay Area to visit with a college friend. It would be just me and the children. It seemed like an opportune time to clean out the hall closet.
The hall closet houses a variety of things. In addition to coats and our reusable grocery bags, you will also find the Kirby vacuum and all its attachments (because those guys came to the door and I’m a sucker for clean carpet), the dog food and bowls, and a number of guitars that will not be disclosed here.
It's dark and cool in there, and as such you will also find a bag of onions, a bag of garlic, the bottle of Dom Pérignon that my father gave us for our wedding (which we have yet to open).
And a bottle of homemade Vanilla Vodka.
The homemade Vanilla Vodka is a tradition of mine, a generous gift that requires forethought, patience, and sobriety. As soon as the Christmas decorations are packed, Vanilla Vodka production ensues. A handle of Ketel One vodka and a bag of fresh vanilla beans are combined and divided into corked bottles. They are then placed into aforementioned closet to spend the remainder of the year mingling and making their Vanilla Vodka baby.
And so it goes.
I had just been admiring the vodka baby last week. I even opened it to take a whiff, bathing my nose in the luxurious scent that is the result of a premium vodka mixed with a premium plant.
I removed the clutter from the closet, vacuumed and embarked on the organizing.
And then it happened.
Vanilla Vodka was nestled in the corner, next to Dom — the only two bottles worthy of space in the darkness of a closet (sadly, we have no wine cellar). The Dom, apparently feeling threatened by the proximity of Vanilla Vodka, thrust itself INTO Vanilla Vodka, causing an eruption. And tears for all parties (mostly me).
Initial thoughts:
Can I save this bottle if I cover the jagged edge with my hand?
Oh GOD. Did Dom cause himself undue injury? (Blessedly, no.)
How do I clean this up?
If I suck it up in the carpet cleaner, can it be saved?
If it cannot be saved, can I suck it out of the carpet with my mouth?
If I cannot get my face close enough to the carpet to suck it out of with mouth, what CAN I use that will remove it unscathed?
Why didn’t we replace the carpet in here with hardwood when we did the renovation? WHY LORD? Why.
I walked sullenly to the kitchen and opened the drawer where the towels reside, a tear running down my cheek (probably got Vanilla Vodka in my eye when I laid my face upon it).
The towel, a threadbare gym rag that snuck into the laundry via Matt’s sweat-soaked clothes, did the job well enough.
I inhaled the towel’s luscious scent, the result of a year’s worth of patience, another tear (more Vanilla Vodka in my eye, I presume). And then…
I sucked on it.
It was not my finest moment. (It was also 9:30 AM. I cannot be held responsible for how I might react to such a tragedy.)
vanilla vodka: a haiku
vanilla vodka
you were a fine infusion
i will mourn your loss
We gather here today, to celebrate the life of Vanilla Vodka. We cannot know when the good Lord will take us from this earth, and dear Vanilla Vodka leaves us with this important lesson. Enjoy the ones you love, and drink them right away. Ten months in a closet is no way to live. If only we had be given one more day, we would enjoy you, possibly mixed with Pepsi (or Coke, but probably not Coke, because Pepsi is way better), or as a straight shot if we were in a hurry. You will be greatly missed. May those in heaven enjoy you, as we should have.
A moment of silence, if you please. And a bottle of Patron.
Amen.
Vanilla Vodka, I apologize for hastily placing you next to Dom Pérignon. Had I known that 2000 was such an aggressive year, I would have ignored the vintage and stored him outside.
So long. Farewell. Auf wiedersehen. Goodbye.
Godspeed.
*SOB*
