Sobriety

Yesterday was 50 days since I last consumed alcohol.

I’m not saying I’m never drinking again, like on the thousands of occasions I’ve woken up with a mouth like sandpaper and a head full of spanners, but I intend to remain “on hiatus” for a while.

By now I should be feeling tons better – full of life and the joys of the world.

But I don’t. It seems alcohol is actually a great thing for numbing the senses and making you forget how shit everything else really is.

Every day I find more reasons to consume vast quantities of falling-down juice, but I’ve not given in. It would seem the benefits of being eternally hammered far outweigh the health benefits of not being a functioning alcoholic.

I should have more money than I did when I was drinking too. My last session cost in the region of £70 – cash that could have been better spent on something I needed more. Fags, for example.

My wages somehow still get used up with great speed, so as of yet, there is no need to construct an extra room in the house where I can store all my surplus cash.

So, to sum it up, I’m no better off in any way whatsoever. I’d go to the pub right now if it didn’t mean having to leave the house and be among people.

The joys of drinking were really brought home to me last night when I was woken up at 1am by a gang of pissed girls tunelessly slurring Bon Jovi’s Livin’ on a Prayer in the park for a good twenty minutes.

The lucky bastards.