Stand-up gig in my Melt Town’s club ”Headquarters” went as well as possible. Even though I am drunkard, I always take care of the ropes: I go sober to work and come sober back. On the way home my mind nevertheless turned out how stupid it is to return to my room when there are no bottles of sparkling apple wine waiting for me this time.
The gang at the ”Headquarters” were pouring hops, I mean the audience were so smashed that I did not want to suck hard soup with them at all. Some basic gnome was trying to offer me a beer. When I told him that I am in a state of booze strike, the man mourned: ”Kill yourself!” We laughed like drunkards laugh, hoarsely and manfully, and slap our sweaty upper legs together five times.
My drinking colleague Gary called the following day and suggested meeting. I said that I can drink next time only in January. ”See you next year”, Kari replied and hunged up ruthlessly.
I have also received some encouraging feedback. The most useful is an e-mail ”Flop Down Prevention Handbook”, published by the Lakehead Social Hospital. It has a lot of practical tips for bad times. Possible risk situations, according to that publication, should be anticipated in advance. Light exercise is also an important means of survival. There are even some instruction on daily meditation, my ancient hobby.
The number of sadists has risen to 135, so the ”teddy-bearer” drip-free January is about to be completely fullfilled. If at some point I screw up and screw open a cap of a wine bottle, my penalty is to change my status ”I promise to stay as many days without booze as this Facebook Status will increase in likes” public so that the whole world can like it and give me more sober, painful days.
I’m a hermit character, but I really do appreciate all you readers of my blog somewhere there. Everyone of you belongs to my silent support team – even that nasty technodent who gave a minus voice to this mystery temperance project of mine.