I am convinced the answers to all my worries lie in the bottom of this bottle of merlot. I am sprawled on my bedroom carpet next to the heater, two glasses into the bottle, and I already feel much more content about the meaning of it all. I've made solid progress. Really, I swear. I've already had some truly insightful observations, like:
- I'm much less hungry when I drink wine. Who needs dinner? I could save a fortune on groceries.
- Wow, I need to vacuum. My hair really does get everywhere.
- Still. Hate. My. Thighs.
- Still love him, still love him, still love him...
See, who knows what could be revealed if I keep drinking? A sip here, a swish there, and then... wisdom, nestled right in there among the flavors of oak and tobacco and plum - little keys to make sense of love and life and fleeting happiness, swirling right onto my tongue.
If only it was a malbec, I could uncover the secrets of the entire universe...
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