"Well I woke up this morning and got myself a beer..."
"I like a beer buzz early in the morning..."
"Well the other night I lay sleeping
And I woke from a terrible dream
So I called my Buddy Weiser
And his partner Jimmy Beam
And we drank alone"
"I quit not drinking when I was a kid."
'Twas fun while it lasted.
All this non-drinking is funny. I've been on the wagon for three weeks now, one more week to go, just to prove to myself I can. It hasn't been bad at all. A lot easier than I thought. There was also a mildly alarming health consideration which reared its super-homely head recently, and I certainly won't bore you with that. An observation or two:
•The first thing I noticed after putting down the bottle was the triumphant roaring back of my sense of smell, and it's funny how much I didn't miss it. Frankly, alot of the world just stinks. When I walked in to Fly after going BT (bushy-tail) the stench just about knocked me flat. Has this damn bar always been this unspeakably whiffy? Do drunk people always smell that bad? On the other hand, I suppose it's not a bad thing to be aware of the kitty box's stage of fermentation, something you can't always tell just by looking at it. So, nose, welcome back.
•Really loud drunk people still really suck. I've always known this, but they're that much worse without the luxury of self-pickling.
•All of a sudden the liquor section of the supermarket, formerly more inviting than a candy store, now looks like a Superfund site.
•There always seems to be some extra cash in my wallet.
•I've lost about 8 pounds, my eyeballs are white again instead of glassy pink, my tummy is happy, and my head doesn't hurt.
•Our president is still a fucking idiot. This I observe on a daily basis, and I like saying it. Only 3 1/2 more years. I digress.
So, I reckon moderation is the key from here on out. I can't imagine living a life where I can't share a bottle of wine with Wendo at dinner, or have a couple Tecates at a Bedrockers rehearsal with Robby. What kind of life would that be?
I just can't wash down the wine with two pints of Crow-and-soda or seven martinis anymore. Drat.
Aside, unfortunately these ramblings won't be open to comments anymore due to the recent Spam Storms. Just shoot me a happy email if you're moved (over?) to write.