It had been three days. Well, two and a half. It felt like it had been years. By the time I acquired the cash required to target-run some cheap boxed wine I could hardly coordinate my fingers well enough to maneuver the spigot out into prime pouring position. It was awful and I downed 2 glasses immediately. Later there was a group of us who went out for drinks. I got cut off. Then I got home and got more inebriated. Then I passed out. Then I woke up and went to work feeling sober and sad.
I’ve passed out drunk the last 5 days and it’s the most fun/happy I’ve felt in a long time. But I’m still miserable. I can pretend things don’t suck when I can’t form words; let alone thoughts.
Don’t judge me. I’m in a rut and I work too damn much.