Mr. Ham, no one’s saying you’re limited to one or the other. Me, I’d prefer both.
As it turned out, my darling wife this very day (and without knowledge of the topic du jour!) went to see my buddy Steve at Ashworth’s Clothing in downtown Fuquay-Varina and purchased for me two Hemingway Short Stories and one Opus X (a Perfection X, 6.5 inches and 48 ring gauge, cedar-wrapped). I have no burgundy to enjoy them with, so I guess I’ll have to go with the 12-year-old single-malt Scotch.
Update, 12:15 a.m.: I chose a Short Story in combination with single-malt (Glenfiddich Special Reserve) and a recording of Rachmaninov, an experience augmented by the soft pedal harmony of crickets, the intermittent percussive chirrups of tree frogs and the occasional booming refrain of the resident barred owl. A more sublime half hour I challenge you to find. This was followed by the inevitable return to domesticity, when I remembered tomorrow was trash day and had to muster the garbage together to place curbside.
