More Lamentations from the Cider-Maker’s Wife

I couldn’t get the Little Monster’s bath water to fill this morning. Upon closer inspection, I could see something stuck in the drain, preventing the plug from sealing. Lego? Gum-wad? Fake coin? Precious stone? Something I really didn’t want to get my fingers on without first identifying it?

I managed to pry it out: a bottle cap. Not this kind:

Bottle-Caps-Candies

This kind:

bottle-cap

Although once the Little Monster hits his teens I might not be able to say with full confidence that this is not his, I can still wholly blame it on the cider maker himself. And he wonders why I have my doubts about a home cider-making business, when a bathtub is not a bathtub:

Cleanliness is Next to Drunkenness

And a man is not a man, but a cider maker conjuring spells that can alter his wife’s mood in an instant:

The Peared Piper
The Peared Piper

 

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