A Look Back.
by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor
I was checking my blog, investigating my old habits, trying to pinpoint where it all went a little off the tracks and I found this entry which kind of made me laugh but also made me think a little bit. I am reprinting it for you here with some current notes in parentheses. Enjoy or judge. Whatever…
I'm tired. That kind of tired like you've just done two shots of Nyquil tired. Oh wait, I did take some Nyquil. Do you ever have a cold and you take Nyquil but then you kind of keep taking it for way longer than you probably need to? But each time you think to yourself, well, sure my cold is almost imperceptible now but it would be beneficial to just make sure I get the best night sleep possible. And then before you know it, you've gone through like six bottles of Nyquil. On the bright side, at least you now have a complete set of those little cups. They can be reused for shooters. (Hmmm…the six bottle part was a joke but I did really like my Nyquil even before I ever thought about quitting drinking)
Nyquil is some good shit. At this point, besides pinot grigio, Nyquil's about as hard as it gets. Oh and the heroin but everyone does that. ONLY SNORTING not shooting up, my God. (Okay, the heroin part is true but I stand by that. I’m not a nun, people! A girl’s gotta unwind)
So, I'm getting over this cold, and a friend wanted to go out and celebrate the fact that I just got booked on a little TV appearance which I'll tell my four readers about when it gets closer if it happens for sure! That's cool right? Anyway, it's a girlfriend of mine who's pretty straight laced but then she invites another friend who likes to do a little coke --something I haven't done in 20 years --and another "friend" of the coke lover who probably is the one who deals the coke. Now, I'm tired as I've already told you. And having given my daughter a bath, I'm in my bathrobe. Nobody wants to go out with a couple of coke fiends when they have a baby and are already in their bathrobe am I right? Can I get a whoop whop? (Here’s why I was a drinking problem waiting to happen for so long…laziness. Pure laziness. If I’d gotten out more, I might’ve done more drinking, but I rarely left the house and I wasn’t yet used to drinking wine at home by myself or with my husband) Here's the kicker, while I'm deciding whether to even think about getting off the couch and into a pair of jeans to go meet the ladies at a Mexican restaurant about fifteen minutes away, my husband says, "please don't get carried away and do any coke." WHAT? Screech, record scratch.