Don't cry over spilled beer...especially when your dog's around.

Sunday, I was feeling very ambitious and spent 8 hours cleaning my house, rearranging furniture and doing laundry. At some point, amidst all this, I decided that I deserved a little break and tasty reward for my diligence. I popped into the kitchen and grabbed the very last Sierra Nevada Celebration from my fridge.

I continued to clean as I enjoyed the Celebration. I decided that the stack of storage bins in my bedroom, which were waiting to be taken to the basement, would temporarily serve as a table as I was looking for an open surface on which to place my beer.

As I was continuing to pick up odds and ends (seeing how when you clean, you always make a bigger mess before resolving it) I was trying to decide what to do with the things I was finding and, upon deciding their importance, realized there were some things I could live with out for now. So they were sentenced to basement storage for a while.

Holding the items in one hand, I carefully lifted the lid on one of the storage bins in the stack and attempted to place the items inside. This is when I realized my critical mistake. My Celebration, my very last one, was teetering on the top of the stack. Common sense would ordinarily have told me to ease the lid back down, but panic, over seeing my beloved Celebration in a precarious situation, prompted me to close the lid down quickly. And then it happened in slow motion.

The bottle of Celebration tipped off the edge of the top of the stack, did a full 180 degree flip in mid-air and landed on the floor on it's side leaving it's savory contents to spill out on the floor.

In a flurry of profanity, I went for the paper towels. When I returned to the scene of the tragedy, I found that a clean up operation was already under way. For Murray, the faithful and well trained beer dog that he is, had discovered the growing puddle and helped me find a way to cope with the loss. This beer would not go un-enjoyed. Murray enjoyed it thoroughly.