I feel good. The rash is almost completely cleared up. My pants fit a little better. And I didn’t wake up with a hangover. I’m not sleeping well but that’s a small price to pay.

However, my biggest triumph came last night. I went for a long walk instead of going to a bar. The little voice was there. You know, the one that says, “Hey, it’s been a long week. Take a break. You’ve proven you can lay off during work days. Why not have a couple tonight? Just tonight.”

But there is no “just tonight”. Once the genie is out of the bottle it’s all over. That’s my problem. I can’t have one drink. I can pretend to. If I’m with polite company, I’ll set a socially acceptable limit, stay within that limit, and then make a reasonable excuse to leave. That’s when I cruise into the local market and pick up a fifth. Game on!

So last night I didn’t have a drink. I walked by 10 bars (the operative word there is “by” and not “into”) and kept walking. As a safety precaution I left my wallet at home but I never felt the urge. I’m not saying I’m over drinking. I never will be. I’m just saying I managed to control or at least ignore the craving. Woot! (That’s my happy sound.)

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