A lot has happened since the last time we spoke.
Same job, same Shipping and Receiving place.
Same singleness.
I while ago Miss Odd and Sgt. Puddle spoke with me about my drinking.
Yeah I go out on Monday nights for karaoke, and Friday nights, for karaoke.
Yes, I have a few beers and an occasional shot on Monday.
Yes, there's usually an "after party" where a few more beers are consumed.
Yes, I have a few on Friday as well.
But apparently, having a glass of whiskey at home, alone, isn't so great.
To be honest, if I were home, I'd have a bit more than a glass.
About a half-gallon of vodka every week or two.
So Miss Odd challenges me to two weeks of sobriety.
It was an easy first week.
The second week had me up late, weird dreams, and a pretty healthy appetite.
I made it, without a slip.
Wasn't even really a challenge.
It was an eye opener though.
I remembered what it was like to wake up and feel ok.
Frank Sinatra once said, "I feel sorry for people who don't drink, when they wake up in the morning, that's the best they'll feel all day."
I used that line a lot.
I still may.
While I can't say I won't drink (I already did, and felt like HELL!!) I will probably tone it down a few notches.
...
Oh, yeah, back to the point.
I almost forgot I had one.
During my sobriety, I realized, and remembered quite a few things.
And even though I did a Triple Lindy off the wagon, (2 weeks and 1 day) I have half a fifth of Southern Comfort staring me in the face (and has been since the night before I paused drinking) that could easily be laid to rest tonight, I'm still remembering.
I watch Scrubs a lot, Scrubs and M*A*S*H.
There's an episode of Scrubs where the main character (J.D.) has to write an introduction for the Chief of Medicine (Bob Kelso) but can't find anything nice about him.
In the episode, as soon as Dr. Kelso's feet touch the ground outside the hospital, he hasn't a care in the world.
I used to be like that at prison.
There were the people I spoke with and hung out with inside, but when I waked out the door, I left it all behind.
Someone else's problem.
Whistling as I walked away.
Even after a 16 hour shift, coming out to see the people I relieved come in, once I got outside, it was a common thing to hear Fly Me to the Moon being whistled from my smiling, cheerful, direction.
I don't do that much anymore.
I actually can't remember the last time.
Maybe it's taken 3 years for me to realize there's nothing to whistle about.
Maybe the damn place has taken it's toll on me and I realize no matter if it's not my problem anymore, it will be again in 16 hours.
While I can say I'm a better person without the drink, I'm beginning to see how it got so out of control in the first place.
Maybe just a sip wouldn't hurt...
Don't let 'em getcha.
V.V.
Same job, same Shipping and Receiving place.
Same singleness.
I while ago Miss Odd and Sgt. Puddle spoke with me about my drinking.
Yeah I go out on Monday nights for karaoke, and Friday nights, for karaoke.
Yes, I have a few beers and an occasional shot on Monday.
Yes, there's usually an "after party" where a few more beers are consumed.
Yes, I have a few on Friday as well.
But apparently, having a glass of whiskey at home, alone, isn't so great.
To be honest, if I were home, I'd have a bit more than a glass.
About a half-gallon of vodka every week or two.
So Miss Odd challenges me to two weeks of sobriety.
It was an easy first week.
The second week had me up late, weird dreams, and a pretty healthy appetite.
I made it, without a slip.
Wasn't even really a challenge.
It was an eye opener though.
I remembered what it was like to wake up and feel ok.
Frank Sinatra once said, "I feel sorry for people who don't drink, when they wake up in the morning, that's the best they'll feel all day."
I used that line a lot.
I still may.
While I can't say I won't drink (I already did, and felt like HELL!!) I will probably tone it down a few notches.
...
Oh, yeah, back to the point.
I almost forgot I had one.
During my sobriety, I realized, and remembered quite a few things.
And even though I did a Triple Lindy off the wagon, (2 weeks and 1 day) I have half a fifth of Southern Comfort staring me in the face (and has been since the night before I paused drinking) that could easily be laid to rest tonight, I'm still remembering.
I watch Scrubs a lot, Scrubs and M*A*S*H.
There's an episode of Scrubs where the main character (J.D.) has to write an introduction for the Chief of Medicine (Bob Kelso) but can't find anything nice about him.
In the episode, as soon as Dr. Kelso's feet touch the ground outside the hospital, he hasn't a care in the world.
I used to be like that at prison.
There were the people I spoke with and hung out with inside, but when I waked out the door, I left it all behind.
Someone else's problem.
Whistling as I walked away.
Even after a 16 hour shift, coming out to see the people I relieved come in, once I got outside, it was a common thing to hear Fly Me to the Moon being whistled from my smiling, cheerful, direction.
I don't do that much anymore.
I actually can't remember the last time.
Maybe it's taken 3 years for me to realize there's nothing to whistle about.
Maybe the damn place has taken it's toll on me and I realize no matter if it's not my problem anymore, it will be again in 16 hours.
While I can say I'm a better person without the drink, I'm beginning to see how it got so out of control in the first place.
Maybe just a sip wouldn't hurt...
Don't let 'em getcha.
V.V.
