I’m sitting in front of my window on the world sipping a pricey Napa Cab from my cellar (that is a bit disappointing) and thinking about travel plans for next summer and fall. I’m proceeding as if everything were normal knowing full well they won’t be.
Normally on Sunday my wife and I would be hanging out with our son. But he was exposed to a sick person in court last week (probably not Corona but who knows) so we decided to be on the safe side and forgo the visit.
Every time I try to write something insightful about wine, this runs through my mind:
They’re selling postcards of the hanging
They’re painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tightrope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they’re restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row