October's always been a month of reflection for me. And with that in mind I took a peek at my calendar today and noticed that, without even trying, I've pretty much whittled down this thing I called Ol' Georgie over the past calendar year, haven't I?
Now, don't get me wrong, I've been "pink cloud" boastful in the past only for it to come slappin' me back in the ass hard, believe you me, so I'm not saying I'm "cured" or I have all-powerful knowledge of how to beat the bottle's charm and keep it at bay forever. It's one day at a time after all, brother, right?
But, I mean, well, let's look at the stats and though I'm no tea-totler, I'm hardly the lush I used to be. Ric would surely have dropped me long ago had I not done the deed myself to him first, for sure.
First off, I just want to get it out there that this morning I feel 99% better in regards to the chest congestion/cough I've been dealing with. It was a doozy, let me tell you. I'd guess it'd be all clear by tomorrow.
Secondly, about the title of this post. I chose it based on my assumption that the classic olde tyme song "How Dry I Am" which I'd heard sung all the time usually by depictions of old drunks in comic relief, was a "singin' the blues' type lament that the drunk was sobering up and couldn't get a drink, thus he was sad. Apparently though, it's the opposite. It's sung while the drunk is quite fully hammered and meant as a peon of how sauced he was. I guess like a sponge saying its "dry" as it's busily soaking up all the liquid it can? Well shoot, ya learn something new each day.
BTW, I found a ton of pictures like the one above of these old mid-century ceramic liquor decanters formed in the shapes of drunk hobos and such. Isn't it grand how people celebrate the destructive power of alcohol in ruining the lives of its victims, putting them into poverty and homelessness before ultimately killing them, all for the sake of a pretty keepsake knick-knack that, ironically, will hold the very poison it praises?
Here are my numbers for the year, splayed out month-to-month style:
January: 24
February: 14
March: 17
April: 5
May: 19
June: 16
July: 8
August: 12
September: 4
So that's the total number of drinks per month for each month. And I went into this year starting to religiously chart what I was drinking because I saw I was greatly reduced from my past, so, January actually represents a pretty lower-than-usual number compared to averages in previous periods overall. But you all know that. Just read this blog. There's plenty evidence of it all. All the hills and valleys.
Those four September drinks are all one afternoon on the cruise ship a couple weeks ago and that was after a 33 day dry run prior, so, if considering "home drinking," my favorite pastime of the past, what? four decades or so, that's seven weeks no booze under this roof.
Alright, maybe it's a little bit tootin' my own horn. Shit, I am a smidge proud. And I do fell better off for it, believe you me. Too bad it wasn't some four decades sooner... ah, but that's fuckin' cruin' over spilled milk and there's no doubt a "program" catch phrase regarding that like "Live and Let Live and Don't Go Boo Hoo Over The Booze Stained Carpets" or some shit like that.
I think to celebrate I should go out and...
No.
Not that of course.
But maybe just pop over to Goodwill and see if I can't find me an old used ceramic hobo decanter to display and keep as dry as me.