Red Bicyclette, I'll see you in the morning

I'm not sure how it happened, but I just ingested the entire bottle of Red Bicyclette pinot noir. I feel like I've just gotten to school and I'm having to come up with some sort of excuse regarding my homework: I left it in my car, I had to go to the hospital last night, my dog did't eat it but accidentally hocked a huge dog-loogie onto it.

It's 2:12 a.m. and, for the past several hours, I've been piecing together narratives culled from my trip home this weekend (fueled by a plate of Breton crackers and cheese; this fits into my diet since I didn't eat breakfast, right?). I am at the point now ‚ with a third of a glass left — that I am having trouble typing and seeing the screen clearly. This means I should go to bed.

I am quite sure I made a mistake — or two! — in starting and finishing a bottle tonight. But only time will tell how much I'll pay. I don't have to get up, really, until noon or so, so I've got at least eight hours to sleep this nonsense off.

I'm not worried, but I do wish I'd taken the time to note what this wine is like.

For the record, nothing's wrong with it. It's solid with some spice and heat. But it's subtle enough to stand alone. Another solid, cheap find.