Famished From Lack of Beauty

I parked at the Post Office and sat in my favorite park awhile ago. You could hear thunder in the distance and the sky was a beautiful, if ominous, dark blue. Juxtaposed on that deep blue background was the most beautifully green old oaks and the carefully manicured lawn of St. Augustine grass. And my eyes, almost famished of beauty and color after being inside all day, feasted upon this sight. I didn't realize how much I missed the out of doors until I spent a day writing in my dark and drab front bedroom sequestered like some monk in a dank chamber. It was a wonderful fall day with cool breezes blowing out ahead of all the storms on the way, and everything in the foreground was saturated with color too: the dark red brick of the old abandoned cotton mill, the vibrant cars on the highway, a bright yellow and black butterfly fluttering nearby, the numerous colorful mill houses across the parking lot from the park. I almost felt as if I was in some picturesque painting being unveiled right before my eyes with nature and God being the artists.

Tried another online A.A. meeting today. I am surprised at how orderly they seem. Sure, you have a few detractors who shouldn't be typing, but the moderators take care of them pretty quickly. I grow impatient, though, at the people that want to share and can't type fast and some that apparently can't type at all. Minutes can go by with only silence in the chat room as they peck away. My butt also grows numb sitting in this office chair in front of this computer for any length of time. It can make for a long and uncomfortable hour of tedium and boredom. I think I will stick to real life meetings for the time being.

I kept going to the fridge just to look inside it a moment ago, opening the door and standing there as all the cold air ran out. Rosa walked in to see what I was doing. She thought I was getting supper started.

"I keep looking at my Heineken and trying decide if I need to pour them out," I said.

Rosa laughed and then I burst out laughing at the silliness of it all. A much needed laugh amid the serious business of addictions.

"Let me pour out that six pack," Rosa said with a smile. "It is going to drive you crazy."

"No," I replied. "I promised Wanda I wasn't going to drink today and I am not. I can handle having a six pack of my favorite beer in the fridge. It will be a true test of my mettle. You can drink them. That six pack cost me eight bucks!"

"Okay," Rosa said, walking out of the kitchen. "Don't be surprised when I say, 'I told you so.'"

She's probably right. I probably won't be able to resist them come dark fall and my favorite radio programs come on.