Many people depend on simple daily rituals to keep their sanity during trying times. One of the most popular rituals is known as Cocktail Hour, which usually begins in the late afternoon or early evening, depending on a person’s schedule. I personally look forward to Cocktail Hour, especially in New England during the winter months. The average cocktail hour includes olives, crackers, cheese, and, on special occasions, salami. I have just returned from the supermarket with a small bag of groceries which cost me 154.88. Dinner items for the week, chicken, potatoes, canned peas, cube steak, iceberg lettuce, pasta, frozen pizza and a can of tuna fish, came to a total of 55.45 . The rest of the groceries were designated “cocktail hour fare” and added approximately another 100 bucks to my receipt total. Granted, I bought 7 large bottles of mid-priced wine, but when I focused my eyeballs on the price-per-pound for cheese and olives, I thought I was going to shit my pants. I felt violated.
Someone out there is messing with my life line. The beautiful moments at the end of a long day, wherein I stuff myself with cheese and crackers, salami, olives and wash it all down with a huge swig of cold white wine. This is how it goes. Cheese, cracker, olive, sip of wine. Sip of wine, piece of cheese, cracker, slice of salami, sip of wine, bigger slice of cheese with salami and mustard, etc. Sometimes I am talking to other people who are also stuffing their faces, sometimes I am sitting in my study alone, pondering the events of the day, planning my tomorrow. If I cannot partake in a snack plate I don’t see how I’ll have a past or future. One day will run into a night and into another day, without designation, a dripping watercolor. You will consider this a trivial matter until your own sacred ritual is thwarted.