Hitting the wine

When the conversation lags, I like to ask a somewhat controversial question: what would you do if you weren't Mormon? I'm not really looking for an honest answer, just an interesting conversation. Until recently, I would answer with, "I would drink wine with dinner. And maybe champagne at parties." See, wine was an unknown existence. It's always gorgeously colored, and people talk about its hint of fruit or heady aroma. And really, who wouldn't want to drink out of a wine glass? They look so elegant!

Notice the past tense in the last paragraph.

I was in my apartment reaching for a pan in the back of my cupboard. That thing could rival Mary Poppin's bag with all the miscellaneous junk I've found in there. I stood in front of it, searching by feel for something I had put away only yesterday. Where was the stupid thing? Finally, my hand grasped a handle. Success! I pulled it out, unintentionally bringing random Tupperware lids and the last tenant's wine bottle along with it. Next thing I knew I was standing in the middle of shards of glass and a dark red, sticky puddle that was quickly growing.

Have you ever smelled wine? I'm quite curious about the first person who saw rotting grapes and thought, hey, I should drink that mess. And the headache after is totally worth it!

Wine has the absolute most revolting smell. It's something like cleaning detergent mixed with the first whiff when you open the bottom refrigerator drawer and discover the fruit you forgot about for six months. I had to open all my windows and throw away each bundle of wine-soaked paper towels as I used it up. By the time my oven and fridge had been pulled out and cleaned under, I had already decided. It doesn't matter that I already don't drink alcohol. If I weren't Mormon, I would have made my resolution on the spot. I will never, ever drink wine. No amount of research can convince me that something I can't even bear to smell would taste any better in my mouth. Looks like I'll need a different non-Mormon fantasy.