What? I’m talking about my goram cellar again? What gives? Well, my cellar is my safe place. When I’m particularly upset about something, I go there, think about all the great beers it has, and spend some time with my lovelies. Sure, cramming myself into the fridge is a bit of a tight squeeze, but that’s only a short term problem until Sharon goes away long enough to convert her walk-in closet fully.
Until that blessed day, which will likely come when all my female friends suspiciously receive free tickets & hotel coupons in the mail for a girls’ weekend in Vegas, I will have make do with my trusty upright cellar.
I log the contents of said cellar right here, and have recently updated the structure of that page to include much more information. New info includes a schedule for when I hope to sample and up-date the notes, as well as a count of how many bottles remain. This is to give you an idea of how long I might have a certain beer around for review, but also lets my social worker remotely track my booze intake. Mind you own business, Sarah.