So I guess I'll Just Sleep When I'm Dead.

Yep, I am still awake. I mean, I have slept a few hours, but not near as many as I should have. Last night was another slow one at work, and I would say roughly half of the customers I did have were crazy in one way or another.
There was the "I don't buy French wine" guy, who I believe was a car salesman. They are not known for their good taste, so I felt no urge to correct him). He was wearing sunglasses and never took them off throughout our entire exchange, though our entire exchange was conducted indoors. He was also wearing an incredibly gaudy gold ring, a Bee ehM dubbleeWe polo shirt(he had one parked in our lot), had a really bad mustache. He wanted "a good red" for under ten dollars, shot down virtually every suggestion I had, and answered any questions I asked (trying to narrow down what he wanted) in a hilariously egotistical manner. I gave up and walked away from him, and careened straight into a very diminutive man in his sixties who asked a million questions and hated everything I suggested to him. He kept talking about points, and Parker, and he had an eyePhone so he G00gle searched everything anyway. I don't mind people asking a lot of questions and wanting to be informed, but if our palates are so obviously different, why keep asking me what I think? And really, how does one answer the question
"Is this really worth fifty dollars?", armed with the knowledge that this annoying little man is going to come back in two weeks? Obviously he was setting a trap for me, and I had no intention of springing it.

I also had a very long exchange with the Nice Guy's wife. She was trying to decide what to get for NGs birthday celebration, and she seemed very wound up about getting it just right. I had stepped out front for a moment with my Regular Russian Customer, a youngish woman who has a very nice boyfriend and no friends in this town at all. She is very likable and though we have very little in common I think we might be friends if I were not about to leave town. Ah well. Anyway, when I came back, Adam was standing in the wine department with NG's wife. He had a pained expression on his ace and had removed his glasses, rubbing the place where they had rested on his nose. When he saw me he immediately brightened up, and then as soon as I got within a few feet of them he was off, blathering niceties over his shoulder and practically running back to the cash register.
She is a very nice woman, but she is obviously very concerned about getting this thing just right, which makes for a lot of indecision and more hand holding than I ever have to do with her husband. It was a long process, but thirty minutes later I finally had her out the door with a case of wine for the party and a bottle of rose' to go home and drink immediately.
At the end of the night, Stan and Adam and I chilled a Smuttynose Russian Imperial Stout while we ran through the store as quickly as possible, straightening and stocking and shutting things down. That took about three minutes, which was as much time as the beer needed. It was chilled to perfection. Stan divided it evenly between three glasses, and we all made the same face as we brought it to our noses. It smells awesome. And it tastes even better. It is hoppy, and malty, and creamy, and were I not so fucking exhausted I would have happily stayed for another. Three thumbs way up.
When I got home I sent the b.h. to bed. I grabbed a quick shower and finished the tofu curry, stupidly not opening another beer to go with it. I started watching an episode of Unc0rked, but Kilgor wouldn't stop whining so I shut it off and went to bed.
The wind was pretty nasty, loud enough that neither Kilgore nor I could quite relax, so I turned on the fan for some white noise. This had the effect of knocking him directly out, and I was awake for another hour, after which I slept fitfully and awoke feeling like shit. So here I am. The good news is that I finally uploaded some pictures I've been meaning to show you.

This is my new favorite coffee mug, courtesy of K. It looks just like the paper cups you see smashed in the street all over New York.



This is the hawk that I am fairly certain is nesting somewhere in the yard. She has been quite vocal recently. This picture was taken from here at the computer desk in the office.



This is the first icicle we ever grew in Georgia. Not the sheet of snow that is hanging precariously from our tin roof. We could hear that thing moving, very incrementally for a couple days after the snow. It crashed to the ground while we were out getting groceries.





Here's the long shot of said sheet, just before it fell: