After sitting on the green outside our house last night with friends drinking wine, and talking rubbish for several hours, I essentially lost the greater part of Saturday. I didn’t really drink that much, and the virus I’ve been struggling with probably had quite a bit to do with it, but I’ve pretty much decided that enough is enough. I’m going to stop drinking for a while. Maybe forever. We’ll see.
It’s not the feeling crappy the next day after having one too many drinks that has annoyed me – it’s losing a day of the weekend. I can’t remember feeling this bad in quite some time – since I was single probably. The odd thing was I felt fine when I woke up this morning, and then got steadily worse. I finally started to sort myself out late this afternoon – washed up everything in the kitchen, sorted dinner out for the kids – the usual routine.
I suppose it’s pretty funny in it’s own way – I’ve proven that I really can’t drink more than one or two drinks any more. I’ve never been much of a drinker – on nights out I’m invariably the one that stops after two or three drinks, aware that I need to be somewhat useful the next day. I think a part of that comes with being a parent – knowing there is nobody to catch you.
Throughout the evening I’ve been turning this whole “decision” over and over in my head. A friend of a friend recently wrote on the internet about her decision to stop drinking – for similar reasons. A glass of wine after a stressful day had become a crutch, and she knew it. While I don’t typically drink during the week, there’s an insane school of thought that if I drank more regularly I would be able to survive more than a drink or two more easily when I do – which is utter, utter madness.
Don’t worry – I’m not about to turn into some sort of temperance zealot – I firmly believe people should be able to do whatever they like (as long as it doesn’t harm others, break the law, and so on, and so on). I’ll just have to get brave about saying “no thankyou” when offered drinks.