There is a tension slowly building.
Thirty-nine of my favorite dollars squandered on this fluid which now sits dormant in my basement.
This fluid which I so painstakingly infused with the very best sugars and made absolutely perfect for the growth of some random microbe. It does nothing.
It does not bubble or froth or stir.
If the brew shop were open all night I’d be there right now buying seven more dollars worth of yeast. It’s not, so I sit.
It waits only for that one microscopic particle to make its way to the mighty sugar shore – to drink of its delicious sustenance.
I pitched the yeast too early. I’m sure I did. Normally, a person would use a wort chiller to cool it off before sending in the microbes. I didn’t, mainly because I’m lazy, but also because I’m not confident of my ability to keep the wort chiller clean. So, really, it was caution that led me astray.
Still, there could be some still alive. Some tough yeasties rapidly dividing in that sweet, sweet beer.
They’d better get to work if they do exist.
If they haven’t started by morning, I’ll be at the brew shop when it opens.
Oh, the drama!
How can I even sleep.