High and Dry

So this is what abstinence feels like.

Well, as close to abstinence as I will ever get: Not being anywhere near blacking out for 10 days straight. Does AA have a keychain for that?

It’s true that a leopard can’t change its spots, though, so my next binge is likely nearing with every minute. I stopped by a bar last night at happy hour with a few coworkers; and, as my second tall draft disappeared, I found myself smacking my lips like Tom when he temporarily befriends Jerry and kisses him on the head. That old familiar taste; it’s so good, once it hits your lips.

But money is probably the one thing that puts a leash on my drinking habit, and January is a rough month for finances. Christmas shopping drains the bank account the month before, while pumping up the credit card debt. I only get paid once per month, and our December check came on the 21^st because our entire staff is off during the holidays. This means that my January pay doesn’t arrive until 40 days later. The earth has flooded in less time. Ironically, though, these 40 days mean I’m high and dry. I always knew religion was misleading.

Finding a way to drink on a restricted budget is a lot easier when you’re younger. Between the ages of 18 and 24, you find yourself at house parties all the time. Sometimes more than one per night. But once your friends begin giving away their pride in exchange for marriage/committed relationships, it all goes downhill. Ironically, now all of my friends have houses of their own. But none of them have parties on the weekend. Explain to me, then, what the point of owning a house is? Why do anything that adversely affects your drinking/partying? Am I the only one who thinks logically around here?

Well, given my month-long “sobriety,” I guess I kind of am.