Tomorrow is the day, and I have to be honest, I’m scared shit-less. It would have been ideal to watch someone do this first, or to have someone with knowledge babysit me whist I do it. But alas, this is a lone endeavor. There is a good chance I fuck this up eight ways from Sunday, with minimal chance of me coming away with a tasty Milk Stout.

I can do this, and by do this, I mean lay in the fetal position, crying myself a puddle of shame to sleep in, while pots boil over and small kitchen fires start.

It always helps to keep a positive attitude…