Last week MW visited some friends who came in from out-of-town. It was a pretty exceptional event, actually, considering there were half a dozen young - some very young - children at the gathering and they were coming from up North. MW has been steadfastly avoided young children and northerners for nigh on three years now (afraid of catching a cold), but she found the courage this time.
Good. She should be spending as much time as possible with friends.
So that was a positive; and to balance it with a neg., MW has become obsessed with moving (our house is dirty and, at this point, it'll be easier to move than clean it). Yes, I still have three months grace while I build my credit by using a Visa card, but after that? My back's to the wall. I'll have to make a very bad financial mistake. Unless I don't last the three months.
That's become my thing: if it's not going to happen within the next few days; fuck it. Ignore it. Hell, something might happen and I won't need to deal with it at all anyway.
That hasn't panned out yet; but it will. It has to.
The only future event I am anxiously waiting for is Palm Sunday. I just looked at the calendar and, Christ, four more weeks? Can that be right? Seems like a long time.
I was a fucking idiot to give up drinking for Lent. And I'm even more a lamebrain for sticking with it. What am I thinking? At this point my religion is based entirely on hate. I can't remember the last time I've thought or said the word "God" without immediately suffixing it with "Damnit". Yes, I told myself it was all about the nostalgia - a return to my Catholic childhood - but there were other alarm bells ringing around the bottles, too. I had been making mistakes at work and at home. Still, deciding to do 40 dry days and nights? Man. Man oh man. What a mistake!
A few days ago I had a dream where I was drinking vodka. It was so vivid, in the morning I felt terrible about breaking my Lenten fast. It turned into one of those mental breakdown situations where, even in the light of day, I couldn't remember if I had or hadn't drank vodka. It wasn't until the afternoon, when the fog finally lifted, that I realized I couldn't have possibly had anything to drink as there is no alcohol in the house.
I have enough troubles without this bullshit. I haven't been to Church in decades. Why did I commit to a stupid fast? And why am I still holding it?
Goddamn it.
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