I had an epiphany while at dinner with my best girlfriend last night. (Actually, it was two nights ago now. My slacking has reached an all time high.) Are you ready for this?
When you’re married and you drink too much, IT’S OKAY. You can get sloppy with your spouse. Your spouse will take care of you. Your spouse is (usually) someone you can trust. So, drink up!
IT IS MUCH, MUCH DIFFERENT WHEN YOU’RE SINGLE.
I’ve been going out a lot. There’s usually alcohol involved. Not always, but... usually. (Sometimes there are board games involved. I can't tell if this means we're progressing or not.) (FYI, I suck at Clue.)
I enjoy having cocktails. The other Stephanie, the one usually chained and padlocked to my neurosis, gets to come out and have some fun. And she is one cool chick. She's funny and carefree, totally self assured and confident. She knows exactly what she wants to say and how to say it and doesn't let any pesky insecurities get in her way. It's a beautiful thing. But.
In the last year? Fun Stephanie has done some things un-fun Stephanie is not proud of. (That didn't come out quite right.) I've crossed a line with one friend, led another on... I'll let you contemplate the many sins I may have committed because I'm not going to share the nitty gritty details. But it was all done with the very lame excuse of "I was drunk." Like that somehow makes it okay. Like I shouldn't be held accountable.
I'm finally figuring it out. I do stupid things when I'm drunk. I thought as long as no one was bleeding or getting arrested, NO BIG DEAL. It's all fun and games, right? Wrong.
I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to wake up and think OH. MY. GOD. WHAT DID I DO?! And, worse, not be able to remember. And I certainly don't want to have any regrets that make my face burn to think of them.
So, in an effort to aid my No More Mistakes in 2012 campaign, we're gonna lighten up on the boozin'. (I'm pretty sure that apostrophe is in the wrong place.) And by "we" I mean me. Although, I may have to convince a friend or two of the merits of less drinking and more control over one's behavior.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Five. Before my hand falls off.
1. My left hand is swollen and painful. I have many theories, but no concrete explanations. With the way my luck is going lately, I thought it best to post something before the damn thing falls off.
2. If you've seen my (horribly infrequent) tweets, you heard the heartbreaking news. On Sunday, after moving out of my mother's house, I went to grab a few items from storage. Namely my books and space heaters ('cause I swear I froze my nipples off that first night in the new place.) I got there only to discover that 98% of my stuff had been stolen. Sad fucking day. And it's like the most horrible gift that keeps on giving, 'cause each day since then I remember another item that I'll never see again. (All my books. Just poof! Gone. Fucking assholes.)
3. In happier news: I moved into my new room this past weekend. I say "room" 'cause that's exactly what it is. A room. With a bathroom and a walk-in closet. No kitchen. (Yeah. I know. But since all of my kitchen appliances were also stolen...) However, my room is apart from the main house. I have my own entrance. And when I bounce up the steps, past my very own mailbox and use my very own key to open my very own door and walk into my very own room to the sound of ABSOLUTELY NO ONE, it's like the very best room on the whole freaking planet that ever existed, amen.
4. What's more? The house and property belong to wonderful people. People I know. People who hug me when they see me and tell me how happy they are to have me living there. Technically, they're Jon's people. I'd never have met them had we not been married. (Jon is best friends with Ben. Ben is married to Kristina. Kristina is Charley's sister. Charley owns the house. There'll be a quiz on this later.)
5. Despite the fact that I have a lot less to unpack than I originally anticipated, this whole moving and settling in thing has taken up, like, all of my time. Well, that and work. Which is why this place looks like shit. Forgive my appearance. Forgive my absence. Things'll be back to normal soon. (Of course, normal for me means clusterfuck.) Let's all just go out for a cocktail, okay?
2. If you've seen my (horribly infrequent) tweets, you heard the heartbreaking news. On Sunday, after moving out of my mother's house, I went to grab a few items from storage. Namely my books and space heaters ('cause I swear I froze my nipples off that first night in the new place.) I got there only to discover that 98% of my stuff had been stolen. Sad fucking day. And it's like the most horrible gift that keeps on giving, 'cause each day since then I remember another item that I'll never see again. (All my books. Just poof! Gone. Fucking assholes.)
3. In happier news: I moved into my new room this past weekend. I say "room" 'cause that's exactly what it is. A room. With a bathroom and a walk-in closet. No kitchen. (Yeah. I know. But since all of my kitchen appliances were also stolen...) However, my room is apart from the main house. I have my own entrance. And when I bounce up the steps, past my very own mailbox and use my very own key to open my very own door and walk into my very own room to the sound of ABSOLUTELY NO ONE, it's like the very best room on the whole freaking planet that ever existed, amen.
4. What's more? The house and property belong to wonderful people. People I know. People who hug me when they see me and tell me how happy they are to have me living there. Technically, they're Jon's people. I'd never have met them had we not been married. (Jon is best friends with Ben. Ben is married to Kristina. Kristina is Charley's sister. Charley owns the house. There'll be a quiz on this later.)
5. Despite the fact that I have a lot less to unpack than I originally anticipated, this whole moving and settling in thing has taken up, like, all of my time. Well, that and work. Which is why this place looks like shit. Forgive my appearance. Forgive my absence. Things'll be back to normal soon. (Of course, normal for me means clusterfuck.) Let's all just go out for a cocktail, okay?
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