It seems I have a drinking problem.
Now before you commence with all your smug mmm-hmming and well-I-might-have-guessed-ing, allow me to clarify: it's not a slurring, drooling, shame your children, wreck your marriage, blight your liver kind of drinking problem I'm talking about. And no Jilly, it's not the Airplane kind either (funny as that would be).
It's to do with my sleep, see. Alcohol is fucking with my sleep. And it's really starting to piss me off.
I don't deserve to be fucked with in this manner. It's not like I drink massive amounts of alcohol. Sure, I'll admit to drinking often. Especially now during summer when Mister is on vacation, and working in the yard building flower beds and wharfs and garden stairs and whatnot; and a cold beer at the end of a long, hard day of physical labor is right and just; and I would be remiss in my wifely duties if I let him drink alone, wouldn't I? Because drinking alone--now, I'm pretty sure that does qualify as a drinking problem, and we wouldn't want that now, would we? That would get the neighbors talking.
But even with this near daily indulgence of a beer here, or a shared bottle of wine there, I hardly ever drink to excess.
Holidays notwithstanding, I seriously mean it! My drinking habits are modest----ish.
But I'm figuring out that every evening I do choose to enjoy my trifling bit of alcohol, I'm pretty much guaranteed to spend the night tossing, turning, and drifting in and out of the shallowest of sleeps. Maddening, I tell you. Vexing to the extreme.
Last night, just as a little experiment, I politely declined Mister's kind offer of a glass of port after the kids had gone to bed. Slept like a goddamn baby all night long. Eight straight hours of blissful repose.
It felt so fantastically good, that tonight I refused the cold beer that was proffered over the dinner table. I'll admit, I'm jonesing for that beer a bit right now. The crisp SNAP as the seal on the can cracks open. The glug-gurgle-fizzzzzz as the glass fills. The faint whiff of yeast in the air as foam settles.......JEDA wants......
But no. I shall remain firm. I SHALL SLEEP TONIGHT!
And if I don't, if my little experiment fails--it's going to be Chianti for breakfast, a six-pack over lunch, and a god-damn pitcher of margaritas for dinner because I'm only human, all right!