*I wrote this a few months ago and didn’t publish it because of the subject matter but in the spirit of sharing the messiness of life – cheers to the weekend.
“I don’t like drunk Rebecca”
A friend recently said this to me and I blinked furiously as I tried to comprehendo.
Yes. Perhaps I have consumed a little too much alcohol in the past month or 6. Maybe drunk me and sober me have started splitting our stage time 50/50. Maybe I like it that way!
Ah, wine, gin, whisky. My favourite friends. We have a few get togethers in the week and then spend some quality time on a Friday, Saturday and maybe even Sunday (because Sunday Funday wouldn’t be Sunday Funday without a little basting and a match).
When you wake up and smell like you slept in a barrel of gin. Now that’s the sign of the start of the weekend. Sure, the Saturday blues are a bit of a kill joy, but it’s just a temporary state until the sun sets… or the noon day canon goes off… and you can start the process all over again.
An Ode to Alcohol
Cheers to you. At least, that was my thinking until I started to reflect on all the questionable decisions I’ve made while under the influence. I used to think it only affected me and the strangers who crossed my path on those black velvet nights. But my friends have started to tell me otherwise.
I laughed when my psychologist recommended dry July. Even sober me wasn’t sure if I was up for such a lengthy solo act. Alas, it might be time to put a black veil over my beautiful tray of booze. A time out so to speak.
However, if you do see me with a glass in hand, bright eyed and merry… know that my intent was not to harm – you.