March 16, 2008
There is a nearly-full fifth of vodka in my bathroom. The red plastic Popov bottle migrated there a month ago when I ran out of rubbing alcohol. Iíve had this bottle since I moved here, almost three years ago, and by now the bottle must have realized its mistake in coming home with me. Instead of finding a tub of ice and cozying down with a score of buddies it has led a long life of dusty kitchen shelf isolation, touched perhaps once a year for that hot chocolate drink. And now, the bathroom. How low can a bottle go?