Out of the drink

So, I’m not gonna drink alcohol anymore.

Part of this decision is based on a kind of ‘final straw’ incident that happened over the weekend. It wasn’t anything dramatic or harrowing; if anything, it was run-of-the-mill, and maybe that’s why I have such a big problem with it. I had a bit too much, had a bit of a blackout, and seriously pissed off the Fella. And I’ve no one to blame but myself.

This might seem like an overreaction to the casual observer. Or like a bad joke where, in the depths of tormented hangover, the drunkie vows not to touch another drop. To those skeptics, I can only try to convey the shame I felt the morning after – that I still feel, days later.

We rarely go out, let alone get invited to someone’s home, but when we do I’m almost guaranteed to overdo it. Whether to a greater or lesser degree, I seem incapable of understanding when I need to stop. So, I’m going to stop before I start. Quit while I’m ahead. And conscious.

I was thinking about taking a break for awhile anyway (at least, before the post about fermenting up some brew). The cost is more than I think we should be spending, not to mention that booze contains only the emptiest of calories. Drinking every weekend certainly doesn’t fit with my idea of healthsome living.

This may just be a natural progression from the binge drinking of youth. Gradually, the tipples peter out until you’re satisfied to sip a finely brewed oolong with your afters, instead of pounding back the pints. Drinking seems to be a young-person’s pastime. While I may not be old, I still think it’s time for a new hobby.

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