Wine.

Sniff. Sip. Swish. Swallow.

The burst of flavor reminds me why I spent fifteen dollars on one beverage. Complexity. Body. The thought of an Italian curating grape juice into the experience that is Barbera D'Asti. The slow, steady relaxation.

Sniff. Sip. Swish. Bite of Drunken Goat on Ritz.

There are 5 bottles next to my recycling can. Five. Yes, I'm bad at remembering to take out the trash, but this means more than that. This means missing Joe in the inconsolable pit of my stomach; this means stressing over that one key source for my thesis documentary; this means school hanging over my head like a boulder; this means worry about the next career move.

"What will you do when you graduate?"

Umm, exactly what I'm doing now. Maybe. If they hire me. But maybe not. What if I don't want to stay? Geez, it's not like it's undergrad where your whole life changes when you graduate and you leave most of your friends behind, and you leave the ease of walking to Common Grounds or sitting at the Fleur Fountain and seeing 16 people you love to chat with while neglecting your homework.

Sniff. Sip. Swish.

Wine is just my hobby. Right? It's not like I get drunk or drink the whole bottle in one day (unless I have Heidi to help me).

I flip on Ruko or Hulu and watch The Office or Family Guy.

Stewie to Brian: "If I choose to make stool in my pants right now, you're the only one here to change me. What do you think of that? Hmm?"

Laugh. Sniff. Sip. Swish.

What was I complaining about again? School is now over; just need to defend my thesis and shake hands with my dean and take that diploma. Joe's traveling work project ends soon; he'll be home to me in June.

Summer is coming. Winter will end.

Sniff. Sip. Swish. Ahhh.