liver, pocketbook happy
I need to take it down a notch.
All I can say is that I’m glad tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and we’re heading into a season of Lent.
Not that I usually observe Lent, but I think I might need to this year because last night, as Corey and I played pool and sipped on Irish beers, I realized that it was the fifth night in a row that I’d been drinking. And not that I let my drinking get out of hand or anything, but I don’t remember a time in recent memory that I’ve consumed so much alcohol, in such a responsible manner, in such a short amount of time.
Still, it bothered me a bit. It bothered me because I felt it had gotten out of control. It all started innocently enough:
Thursday had been with Allison and Emmy at Brandy’s after class.
Friday it had been playing Settlers of Cattan with the Storms.
Saturday, Guitar Hero and dinner with L & B.
Sunday, the Super Bowl party at Stephanie’s boss’s house.
And Monday with Corey at Irish Times.
Good grief. I mentioned it tonight to Michelle and her reaction was one of surprise. And in a way, I guess why should it be? All in good fun, right? But on the other hand, I don’t want it to become a defining feature of my social life, as if the good times depend on boozing it up—because five days could easily turn into six, could turn into ten, could turn into 15, and on and on and on ad nausea, until I become an alcoholic and my liver quits. Or I become broke, one or the other.
I’ve always been one to pride myself on my ability to hold my liquor, and I suppose I could keep going and ignore it, but I’m not one to pretend that it might not become a problem. I just don’t want it to become habitual, and I suppose one of the hallmarks of habitual behavior is that you don’t notice yourself doing it—and again, it took me five days to realize what I was doing.
Enough for now. On to lentent things, and just a chance to give my body and mind a rest.
(Mom, I expect you’ll want to talk about this one…)