It was never meant to come to this. Last time would be THE last time, you swore it. But here you are once again, facing down another stubborn ring of fermentation detritus mockingly clinging to the inside of a carboy.
The previous day settles in your head like summer fog at the Golden Gate. You remember brewing. You remember racking. You remember reading a text message, leaving the house, and sitting down at the craft-beer bar. A crumpled receipt in your wallet fills in the rest, and now it’s time to pay the piper, both in ibuprofen and in trub removal.
Let’s not kid ourselves: Cleaning a carboy will never rank highly on your list of pastimes. At best you’ll squeak through it and breathe a sigh of relief when things go more smoothly than expected. But the well-founded anxiety is always there because for every straightforward cleanup, at least two will try your patience.