Drinkin...

What happens to you when you drink? Anything? Do you over-do it a lot or do you just sample & sip?

I'm 2 parts sampler/sipper and 1 part over-do-it-er. I don't over-do it often, of course, but when I do.. oh boy do I ever know it. And not, as one might suspect, due to the raging hangover afterwards. I rarely get those. I'm 36 and I can count on one hand how many times I've been hungover.

I know when I've over-done it because I feel too damned good. No such thing, you say? Well... ok then. For me, however, too happy/too good is bad. Why? Because if things were really crappy before I over-did it... I'm gonna go from really happy to really depressed once I sober up. Who wants that?

If things are just ho-hum before over-doing it, then when I sober up, I'll be bored! Again... who wants that?

If things were great before the over-doing it, I'd likely just wonder what the hell I bothered wasting all that money over-doing it for. This will leave me confused AND broke! Thus ending the happy anyway.

Wait for it... WHO WANTS THAT?

Thankfully, it takes quite a lot for me to over-do it and generally, I'm ready to go home and go to bed by then. So my enthusiastic enjoyment of say.. rye, for example never quite gets off the ground.

After the fire, I was practically obsessed with getting a glass of scotch/rye/whiskey into me somehow. For whatever reason, I never got that drink until almost a week after the fire while visiting at my Aunt's house during my apartment hunt.

I got me a glass of rye on ice... finally. And oh good lord was it good.

Normally when my stomach makes noises, it's bad news, but that day... I think I heard it actually thank me. I know my nerves thanked the hell out of me!

I think my point was gonna be that the one glass of rye... though I'd been obsessed with it for a week, was more than enough. My inner trouble-making, hard-living-wannabe, debauchery-loving teenager did not demand nor pour herself another.

I truly am a grown up.

I think I'll go cry now for the rest of my workday... then... at 4:30 sharp, I will walk home to my new apt, throw myself on my bed and cry more. I mourn growing up AND the fact that there's definitely no rye at my house.