Oh, thank God. I and my work buddy/head cashier/friend/former Walmart co-worker left ninety minutes early. It was slow.
My theory was that people were in the traditional grocery stores buying bad beer. Because they were gathering with friends and family and they NEEDED lots of beer which, had they bought it all at Sprouts, would have forced them to take out new mortgages on their homes.
Sprouts sells spendy beer. Good stuff. It makes me happy that I don’t have to ring up Budweiser. It makes me even happier that that means no case or six pack of glass Buds will crash onto the floor sending an aromatic assault through my olfactory receptors. That stench lasts for days.
We do sell a couple of flavors of Michelob. Alas, nothing from The Lucky Labrador, The Ram’s Head, The Blue Moon. No Saxer Three Fingered Jack or Full Sail. No Dead Guy Ale. No Deschutes or Rogue River Brewery beers. Sigh. I miss good microbrews.
I have to get to Portland for a visit.
“Columbo,” is on. I know, y’all are shocked. I’ve seen it before. It’s a good one. The pathologically tanned George Hamilton is starring as the villain. He allegedly was a heartthrob. He seemed to always be aware of that fact which made him a dud in my book. They have to say something funny or intelligent to get my attention.
The abode is cooling down. It’s 77-two whole degrees less hot.
It’s safe to turn on the oven.