I’ve been awake since six but took an extra hour or two to venture into the world of the living. I’ve managed to stumble my way into a robe and find a seat at the table. Here I sit, immersed in this heavenly slice of blueberry pie. This savory slice of paradise has got me grooving.
Thursday mornings are rough. I spend 12 hours every Wednesday slinging half priced burgers to greedy goblins at a local bar for a pretty penny. It’s exhausting. On a typical Wednesday we clock out at 10 and stay until we’re just barely sober enough to drive. I would count my blessings when I made it home and count them again if there was no trouble once I got inside.
That was rare. I play Russian Roulette with blackouts and on Wednesday, the stakes are high. One drink is a gamble when you’re stressed, dehydrated, haven’t eaten, and searching for release. Now, try four. Just one would be nice. But if one was always just one, I wouldn’t be writing this.
One drink is infuriating when you want more. It’s a tease with no release. After one drink, my rational mind turns submissive. Her logic loses moral and we begin to fight what we were fighting for. Instead of fighting for a better morning we’ll fight against all mornings and question their worth. We will agree that our goals are worthless if we can’t have a little fun and then in order to have that little fun we will submit to reckless abandon then wake up and wonder what happened.
Guilt did not greet me this morning. I was kissed awake by a sexy happy man. I wasn’t forced to stay in bed to prolong a hangover. I chose to stay cozy and enjoy some time alone. When I did roll out of bed there was no mess, no headache or confusion. There was hot coffee, a potential job interview, and a delicious heavenly slice of blueberry pie.