Luckily, I don’t believe my brain. At least, not when it comes to this. I was making supper, listening to Ben Webster blow into a saxophone, and my wife was on her way with a co-worker to have drinks. As I stood at the counter, cutting up onions, humming to the music, I thought, You know, a glass of red wine would be great right now. Just one, though. Okay, maybe two, but no more than two. The kids were playing in the other room rather than terrorizing each other or demanding things of me. What better way to unwind after a long week than with some wine, right? That’s what people do!
I let my thoughts go where they would, and eventually I snapped back to reality. I’m an alcoholic, and my on/off switch that controls how much I drink was broken years ago. I think I can handle a glass or two of wine, looking like this as I sip:
In reality, I’ll drink two bottles, some vodka shots, and end up looking like this:
Dinner has been made and consumed, and I drank water with lemon instead of wine. I’m getting ready to head out for my Friday AA meeting, and then come back home, climb in bed, and watch a movie with my wife (Whiplash, specifically, which I’ve wanted to see).
Not too shabby a night for a sober guy, if I do say so myself.