Cracking a Cold One — With Leah's Help

My roommates tried everything we could think of to get this nasty old stained white couch out of our apartment. With each failed attempt our frustration mounted and finally James proclaimed: “We’ll have to use a chainsaw.”

Wally and I nodded in agreement. Leah standing a few feet away grunted in disgust and told us how we could easily maneuver the couch out of the apartment.

But why would we listen to her? What does she know?

The rest of the story is pretty obvious. Eventually I dropped the chainsaw idea and tried it her way, which worked like a charm, leaving me and my roommates more than a little embarrassed.

The sad part is that I seemed doomed to repeat this little episode. The pattern goes like this. Matt hits a snag. Can’t find a solution. Gets upset. Leah points out solution. Matt ignores Leah. Matt finally acquiesces. Leah is proven right. Leah says “I told you so.” Matt can’t come up with a suitable comeback, so he stays quiet.

I write all this while drinking a beer.

For those who know me that’s a pretty big deal. Since 2004, I’ve had serious problems digesting alcohol. After a bout with food poisoning, I was struck with what I call my alcohol allergy.

I spent two years in mourning, I tried doctors but got nowhere. They just looked at me and said something like “If alcohol makes you sick have you thought about not drinking alcohol?”

Finally I just gave up. But the whole time, Leah pushed me to try enzymes and other over-the-counter solutions. Every time I brushed her off.

The rest of the story is pretty obvious. I finally gave it a shot and I can now drink a limited amount of alcohol, probably a beer or two.

But I’m not embarrassed this time. I’m pretty happy about it to say the least. Now I can get a beer with the guys after work, or crack open a cold one while watching football. I must say nothing goes so well with a game as a beer, except maybe for my Grandpa’s brats.