My Thoughts for the End of the Day…

I Fell Off the Wagon and I Fell Hard…

Mom and dad have three refrigerators in the basement.  One is for a delightfully varied mix of diet Sodas.  One is for food.  And one seems to be for wine as all their friends bring a bottle of wine when they visit.  In the third fridge has been two very conspicuously large bottles of expensive wine with a red bow tied to each.  A vestige from Christmas.  They have been calling my name.

Well, Helen called me this morning after I had gotten home from my injection for my schizophrenia.

“Baby, come have some French toast and bacon,” she said. “Your mommas already eating.”

I was on auto-pilot from that point on it seems.  It was all a blur.  I ate breakfast.  Mom went to bed.  Helen was vacuuming the den as I went downstairs and put those two large bottles of wine in my car. 

I got home and didn’t have a corkscrew.  Corks have never stopped an alcoholic on a mission.  George would call this “nigga rigging”.  I used a screw, screwdriver and a pair of pliers to get the corks out.  I then sat on the floor in my computer room, drinking copious amounts of wine until I was drunk.  There went four straight years of sobriety in an instant.   One short instant in four years of restraint. 

On the bright side, I went to bed about lunch and slept like I have never slept before.  I woke up at 7pm tonight wondering what day of the week it was much like mom often does.  I wish I had something profound to say, but I will say this, tomorrow is another day and I am not going to wallow in self pity over my indulgence.  I will begin again and tomorrow will be day one in a new string of sobriety.