Tonight doesn’t count, because I have an excuse in Monday Night Football, but starting tomorrow, there’ll be no drinking in my house on weeknights. And I use the term weeknights very loosely. Mondays and Sundays are excluded, due to my football obligations, and Fridays and Saturdays are no-brainers. That leaves three days, or “weeknights,” if you will.
Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday.
That’s seventy-two hours in which a drop of alcohol must not touch thy lips. Actually, if you subtract work and sleep hours from that figure, it’s twenty-four waking hours. Simple enough.
There are two reasons I’m instituting this law:
- I don’t want to die a horrible and painful death caused by prolonged and excessive alcohol consumption; and
- I don’t want to die a horrible and painful death caused by prolonged and excessive alcohol consumption.
But, my fear of a horrible and painful death caused by prolonged and excessive alcohol consumption, apparently doesn’t outweigh my attraction to chilled chardonnay. I’ve attempted this “program” several times in the past, and each time, it’s the same result: misery, followed by excessive alcohol consumption on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.
I don’t know why alcohol is so instrumental in my happiness. Maybe being raised by alcoholics has something to do with it. But in my mind, there’s nothing like a bottle of wine or a six-pack of beer to relax to after work.