Martini Friday

I am out of gin.

I cannot tell you how extremely irritating this is for me. So let me explain.

My bookshelf, seated besides my dining room table, displays Tolstoy, Wolfe, Dickens, Kissinger, so and so forth.

On the second shelf.

The top shelf features a tall bottle of Sweet Vermouth, white wine glasses, shaker, coasters, and until today a goddam bottle of gin. In my freezer, I permanently keep four martini glasses. Pisses my Wife off royally, but I want it so I get it.

Gin martinis are the first drink whenever I entertain. I gather the men folk in the kitchen, we discuss our jobs and our reading, I describe how I make a martini, and then I make a martini.

And sometimes I cheat and have one myself on Friday.

Grocery shopping is tomorrow morning, and you know the first thing on the list.


Last weekend proved a little stressful, but we ended up with a house in good condition. A double-tapped breaker was our only issue, easily fixed, and we plan to upgrade to 200 AMP service in the next few years anyways. No, the actual work week proved to be more than I was worth. Our $17,000 Question came back to haunt us; the CSR Help Desk gave us the wrong fax number, our insurance contact refused to believe we actually had $750,000 missing, and has thus far refused to help us.

And must I say she was not even the most unhelpful insurance person this week? My personal favorite was the deduction on several hundred thousand Medicare claims...without notifying us. The insurance company then told us the patients had overpaid copays. That's no big deal.
But when we looked into the adjustments, we determined that they actually reduced our dispensing fee. And reduced it to well below our contracted rates.
That is not running a bad business. That is running a dishonest business. Next week we let loose the hounds.

There's a reason we prefer women-folk to raise our children, as opposed to coarsening themselves in this ridiculous environment.

However, this weekend bodes well. Tomorrow my Wife and I will be attending a friend's party. My favorite party of her parties is her liquor reserve, which is deep enough to satisfy a passing Russian armored brigade. Jenna is going on a date with another one of my friends: I suspect that will end badly, but what's the harm in hoping? 

In the mean time, I cannot have a martini, but I can listen to some Sinatra.