Something is awry when, at just a bit after two in the afternoon, one feels a sudden desire for a shot of good whiskey. The onset of such a craving should wait until after dinner; that’s the natural time for it. But my thirst for something to slap me in the face with its aroma and sting on the tongue refuses to pay attention to the clock. No matter, though; I do not possess good whiskey at the moment. The closest I come is Seagram’s Seven Crown, blended American whiskey best suited for mixed drinks, not for downing from a shot glass. Would that I still had some Maker’s Mark or some Jack Daniels black label. Oh, well. Or, I could go for a very nice añejo tequila, instead. I am equipped for that; indeed, I have good tequila, lime, and salt, the ideal triumvirate. But, still, it’s not even 2:30 p.m.
The question arises in my mind, of course; why do I feel like a stiff drink at this unwholesome hour? It is a rarity, indeed, which is a good thing. A frequent longing for afternoon whiskey or tequila could be problematic.
I blame my youngest brother for this sudden urge to indulge myself. He wrote an email earlier today expressing a desire to try a sidecar, a mixed drink he has never had. I hadn’t ever thought about it, but I don’t think I’ve ever had one, either. Though I’d like to try one, I am not ready for one today. But the thought of brandy turned my mind to other good stuff; I’m sure that’s how bourbon found its way into my brain. From there, it was just a matter of time before my mind turned to shots of good liquor, zeroing in on good whiskey and then substituting tequila for whiskey. If I lived in a civilized state, I could go buy some good whiskey today; I live in Arkansas, though, a state that prohibits the sale of liquor on Sunday because…fanaticism, AKA religion on steroids.
It’s now 2:43 p.m. and I have successfully avoided shots of anything, so I may be out of the woods. Or I may slip into the kitchen and pretend I am sitting at a waterside bar on Lake Chapala, washing my cares away. Time will tell.