The Case of the Vanishing Vodka

I told the Nurse this morning that I had noticed that every clear liquor bottle in the house seems to be empty. The special Stolichnaya Vanilla vodka I got in duty-free because I wanted to see what kind of wonderful black russian I could make with it was empty, standing behind my two (unopened) bottles of Kahlua as if nothing had happened. It certainly didn't evaporate, because I had never had the top off of it. Other bottles, too, like the little pepper vodka and lemon vodka souvenier bottles that my developer, Lilya, had given me from her last trip to visit her sister in Kiev, were standing, empty, feigning unopenedness on the kitchen windowsill. I didn't even bother looking in the cabinet under the sink, which should have almost full bottles of various alcoholic beverages that rarely get used, NEVER go bad, and should be there on the once-every-few-years occasion that I need or want them. He tried to laugh it off, something like "Well, I made a deal with myself to not BUY any more liquor," but he really was ashamed. Good. If we absolutely have to, we can become the type of home where liquor simply is not allowed through the door, but why should my chocolate mousse (triple sec or grand marnier), turkey tetrazini (extra dry sherry), or certain cookies and cakes (rum, whiskey, whatever) suffer? But really, who the heck am I kidding. If I REALLY expect him to stop, we DO need to become that kind of home where liquor simply is not allowed through the door. The deepest truth is that I don't expect him to stop, so why change? Maybe I'm just not ready to put that particular foot down. Or afraid to... and so it goes.