Recollection

Sometimes I forget how much I enjoy drinking. Or I remember how bad it is for you – one or the other.

It’s just gone 4 in the afternoon and I’ve just polished off a sort of bastard cuba libre. There was leftover coke from friday night / saturday, and limes, and rum, and really who can be fucked making a mojito after standing all day? I’m not certain a white rum is acceptable, but whatever – rum, coke, lime, in no real balanced measure. I’m a bit in love with these summery rum drinks, although they require a degree of forethought that my other drinks have not. In order to have enough ice for just one of these, you have to remember to fill a whole goddamn tray about 8 hours before drinking. The alternative, of course, is to buy. Which is great if you’re blending / crushing, not so much otherwise.

So I got in from work today and was thinking about a drink before I’d finished emptying my pockets. Not writing an entry, or playing some CoD, or reading a book. Certainly not sorting my life out. Not even watching tv. I didn’t want a snack or to check my phone or update my facebook status. I wanted a stiff drink, with lots of ice in it. I could actually feel parts of me relax as I inched my way down into the glass. I have concluded, after 5 short minutes of quiet observation, that whilst alcohol may be a poor substitute for actual relaxation, it beats the shit out of never relaxing.

Wouldn’t it be nice if this week I called a GP, made an appointment and started doing something about this whole mess? Or the specialist for my arm. Or the university. Or a psychic hotline. Any show of interest would be an improvement.

Ach … ‘nother drink, then something else. Don’t know what. Loud music?