But I do feel the ennui of it all now. I wasn’t that bad, and all that. I mean, I was: I’m not kidding myself that I can drink normally, nor that my drinking was okay. But I have gone into well, what harm did it do? I mean sure, there have been times when I have worried that the girls see me drinking and it’ll be an issue some day. And I know it wasn’t good for my health or my finances. But mostly it was only ever me that I was destroying. I didn’t black out, or rage, or do inappropriate things. I didn’t drink and drive; I rarely if ever drank much in public at all. I am more than capable of turning down alcohol and I don’t like drinking during the day.
So, sure, I should stay sober for my own sake. I should also exercise, cut out sugar, start a home business and delete Candy Crush. And I’m sure I’d feel happier and be a better person and all of that. But I’m contemplating my evening of exciting, crazy plans (watch Rake and then sort out the household budget spreadsheet) and it’s just like always, but without the welcoming arms of wine at the end of it.
It’s not that wine makes things more interesting, it’s just that it makes me care less about how unspeakably dull my life is.