I always knew that it would only be a matter of time before I had an accident. After coming home last night and being hit with the smell of beer, I knew something was up. (Sorry, this is a story about beer instead of mead...) Yup, my number had been called. A bottle had ruptured, scattering glass and spewing beer all over my kitchen. Interestingly, most of the glass went one way while most of the beer went another.
One thing strange about the cleanup: I could only account for half of the beer. And the floor, while a bit sticky, had no beer puddles like what was on the counter top. Evidently, my shih tzu is a closet beer dog. She had always rejected any type of alcohol in the past, but I can find no other explanation. Ah well, less work for me.
As for me, all bottles from this batch are going into a box in the garage. Future batches too. That flying glass might have hurt someone, so I have learned my lesson.
One thing strange about the cleanup: I could only account for half of the beer. And the floor, while a bit sticky, had no beer puddles like what was on the counter top. Evidently, my shih tzu is a closet beer dog. She had always rejected any type of alcohol in the past, but I can find no other explanation. Ah well, less work for me.
As for me, all bottles from this batch are going into a box in the garage. Future batches too. That flying glass might have hurt someone, so I have learned my lesson.
