The Day I Cried in My Kitchen

It's not that the feral threesome have done me in, try as they might. Instead, it's quite the opposite.  You see, my School Holidays Salvation arrived!

Behold - my new slogan

Wise words.  I need to get myself a set of white Tshirts emblazoned with this sage advice, one for every day of the week.
On to the contents :

Huzzah!

Proof that it is indeed mine, and I did not go skulking around the neighbours' doorsteps looking for abandoned wine deliveries. Not even kidding when I say that I shed a tear. Especially when I realised there was a whole other layer of "Mummy's Cordial" underneath...

OMGIALMOSTWETMYPANTSASISQUEALEDWITHEXCITEMENT!

Tears of joy did rain down upon thine kitchen benchtop. It is indeed booze in a cardboard box, only it's not the kind that I'm used to.  There is no nozzle.  It did not come from the musty shelves in the depths of the darkened corners of Dan Murphy's discount liquor warehouse. My first instinct was to hide it all for myself.  Even the coffee, because I like to keep the good stuff just for me.  #1Hubby has been surviving on instant coffee that I've convinced him is the real stuff, thanks to the 2-3 scoops per cup that I use for faux strength, coupled with my theatrical efforts for authenticity's sake, of using the coffee plunger in order to fool him.
I'm committed to my performance.
Meanwhile, I hoard the real coffee for myself, and pull it out once he's gone to work, heh.
So my plan was to maintain this selfishness and hoard the goodies for myself, until I realised two things:
a) I totally had to brag about this and show off my bounty, waving it under the noses of my non-blogging family, seeing who would suck up the most.  I figured it was good for at least a few hours of pro-bono babysitting.
b) this coffee was far too good for my $5 Red Dot single cup coffee plunger, that falls apart every time I use it, so I'm left chewing the grounds.
Yeah I know, probably Karma's way of giving me an ass kicking for not sharing.

Since I am, sadly, without coffee machine after the death of my dearly beloved Saeco (RIP darling, not a day goes past where I don't miss your stainless steel finery), I had to bribe, bargain and beg #1Nana to loan me her coffee machine.
Her price?
Time with the beloved grandkids?  Don't be stupid.
Wine.  She demanded to be my one-time-able-bodied and exceptionally experienced wine tasting assistant.
Stay tuned for my first review tomorrow.  Complete with #1Nana's wise words of wisdom and commentary  extremely experienced wine swilling views.
I don't think I've been this excited since I went to a Take That concert in 1995, and realised there were another 3 rows of people behind me, further from the stage than I was. It just wasn't meant to be at that point in time Robbie, but that's okay because you've kinda let yourself go since then, distracted from your formerly chiseled abs by chasing UFO's while living on cheeseburgers.