Sunday’s are a workday for me and today was busy busy busy. I strolled home thinking about the chilled glass of wine I would have when I got there before I begin my self-imposed NO ALCOHOL DURING THE WEEK program that has a45% 99.9% rate of success.

So, I look in the fridge and there is the not-so-great-tasting open bottle of chardonnay and the unopened super-tasty bottle of chardonnay. I had some people over on Friday night, so this was leftover party-wine. I don’t usually have this much to choose from because if it is there I will drink it I don’t drink during the week.

Since it’s Sunday, I figure I will open the good tasting bottle as life is too short for crappy wine. I pulled out my wine opener that is made of plastic. It already had a crack in the twisty part of the handle, but I screwed it into the resisting cork anyway. This cork was made of cement or something, because it would not budge and I forced the handle until it just snapped right off! So there I am with a mutilated corkscrew poking out the top of the tasty wine. Luckily, I had the crappy bottle, too, so I poured a glass as I pondered how to get the corkscrew and cork out.

I tried it with my bare hands, but nothing budged. I wrapped a towel around the bottle neck and pulled the crap out of what was left of the corkscrew, wiggling it to the left and right. No movement at all. Nada.

I got my emergency flashlight and crawled into the cupboard under the stairs to find my tool box. Pliers would pulll that sucker right out, was my thinking. After hitting my head on the overhang, I rummaged through my tool box only to find I need to buy some pliers the next time I’m at the hardware store (did i just write that?). I did, however, find some pinking shears from c.1920. They weigh about 10lbs and came from my grandmother’s sewing kit. Turns out, even pinking shears on steroids are no match for a cement cork.

I poured myself another glass of the crappy wine and had a few crackers with goat cheese for sustenance, while sitting on the kitchen floor.

I thought that maybe I could take the whole mess down to the corner liquor store where the guys could jimmy the cork for me. But then I envisioned myself walking down the street with a bottle of wine topped by a broken corkscrew and, well, then I thought NO! I can MacGyver this shit! There is no one else here that will help me with this problem (or the spider relocation problem) so it’s up to me to get to that wine.

With renewed faith in my abilities to solve all problems myself (except for probably global warming) and after rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, the junk drawer, and the rest of the kitchen cupboards, I grabbed the can opener.

I won’t reveal my secret to using a can opener to get a sticky cork out of a bottle, because I may need to patent that action. A couple of minor hand lacerations and some grunted swear words later (something about a MotherF**R), the cork released from my sheer determination and cork-releasing skillz.

At this point I had already had one and a half glasses of the crappy wine, so I guess the good wine will have to wait until tomorrow night which screws up my whole NO DRINKING DURING THE WEEK THING. But what can you do?

My point is, I’m going to KILL IT in the post-apocalyptic world of wine opening. People will be flocking to my cave so I can open their wine. But I will totally let you (reader) cut to the front of the line if you bring some pliers.

And now I will stop writing because I just typed over 700 words about opening a bottle of wine. Wow. And in a twist of irony (?) I am going to watch a PBS mini series about prohibition in an hour.

Thanks and Cheers!

Post Script: Apparently I didn’t hit “publish” on this post last night, so it’s a day late.