It's my friend and coworker T's birthday today. I thought about getting him a gift certificate for a coffeeshop near our workplace, but it turns out he's given up coffee. (Even though apparently he's not even pregnant. I know, he must be a communist or something.) I consulted with Mr. A via email and we decided to get him something not very original that we knew he would enjoy: whiskey.
Thanks to Washington's repressive liquor laws, you have to get your liquor purchased during the workday. So on my break, I headed down the hill to downtown's only liquor store, bought the whiskey, and hauled it back up. Then I went to the Bartell to buy some ginger ale, because T enjoys a nice whiskey ginger.
It was all going swimmingly until the bag the Bartell lady gave me immediately broke and the whiskey bottle fell and shattered. I could feel every single person in the long line at the Bartell judging me as a terrible mother and a drunken librarian.* I really didn't know what to do, so eventually I just threw away the sad remains of my bottle of Maker's Mark and left.
I still reek of whiskey and there are only six minutes left in my dinner break. Time to go serve the patrons!
*I was still wearing my crazy clown librarian badge. Represent!