Woke up sunday after a week of sin which I hope does not come back to haunt me. I was laying on the couch contemplating the idea of rock bottom and how far I still really need to go when I heard a knock on the door.

It’s my neighbor’s daughter. She’s asking me for a beer for her dad. He’s down by the pool grilling. I walk down in my black robe and 2 tall boys of Becks, the last of the alcohol in my house.

I gave him the beer and sat and talked with him for a bit about what I had been up to Friday and Saturday. I go back upstairs and decide to drink the last beer. It made me feel a little better.

Earlier that morning I had woken up hungover and starving. The 2 tiny pieces of chicken I ate the night before the magnum of wine I drank with A was not really a sufficient dinner. Made a apple with peanut butter.

Later Peter’s kid brings me one of the hamburgers and says “you’ll need this later”.

I did, it was good.

Later I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill. Felt like I was dying the whole time. Afterwards I was faced with the option of going home and barely sleeping at all while sweating and tossing and turning. Or I could go get some wine and relax and sleep at a decent hour. Decided to sweat it out. It wasn’t the worst “1st night” I’ve had, have had much worse and much more scary. Tuesday was rough, Wednesday was terrible.

Today, Thursday, the craving was there immediately after the presentation .  Went for a run instead.