brandy français

it's magically delicious

When this photo was taken, there was still something in it.

I bought this bottle of brandy the weekend before “I Quit” Weekend in December 2008 to celebrate the obvious. I was more or less told I had the job unless I whipped it out and peed all over the publisher’s face. I was heading to my fraternity house to celebrate Thanksmas, our hybrid Thanksgiving-Christmas dinner/gift exchange so it was even more of a reason to celebrate. As I was drinking, I took some photos of the bottle and, for some reason, decided to hold on to it to use as a photo prop of some sort. I never took a photo of it again until March 2012.

Since then, I’ve moved six times in three cities in two states (including two non-consecutive terms in the same house and moving a different floor in the same house). As I continued unpacking today, I grabbed it and wondered where I would put it.

I’ve done that every time it’s been empty: When I moved to 33rd Street. When I moved to Jacksonville. When I moved back to 33rd Street. When I moved to the basement of this house. When I stopped being a Morlock.

Where am I to put it? At some point, it stopped being an empty brandy bottle and became a tailsman.

Where is the best place to put it?

After some hesitation, I opened the kitchen door and put it in the recycling bin.

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