this weekend was a perfect storm for us restaurant folks. a 3-day weekend with valentine's day falling the night before a monday holiday before school break. those red-sweatered lovebirds who got locked out of sunday came saturday and the even bigger procrastinators were sweetheart bookends on friday and monday.
towards the middle of my 3rd double yesterday, i was bleary-eyed and jello-brained. "do i have a box of tissues?"; "you eloped and only came here to have cake? here? for CAKE?"; "no, little fat boy, we do not have diet root beer, snapple or butterscotch pudding." mother of god. when it at last ended and i got out of the building -- "oh! that's what the sky looks like" -- i felt much calmer. there was no wind, the water was still and the air lacked its recent bite, but i was bone-weary. my norm on a night like that would have been to walk down to the swanky hotel and saddle up for a nice big-girl martini. feel the tension just ooze out of me and then slide home like a happy relaxed noodle.
no. i promised myself and the owner i am on the wagon.
when at last i got back to the noodle house, and the shoes and bra came off and the bath was running, i heard the wine calling me. no, i told them, i am not drinking. i was exhausted, but knew the owner was in the area, likely on a date with his new prospect, so sleep would just not come.
i could get up and have a nice glass... nope.
by the time he called to tell me about his not-date, it was after 2:00. the riot of voices in my head after that nearly hijacked sleep for the rest of the night, but i finally got the committee to shut the fuck up and managed a few hours.
today, no work, but errands and i snuck in a movie because the weather was so foul. my habit is a drink either before or after, or at least with lunch. i abstained. it was harder today.
puttering and making dinner here i normally have wine.
blogging at night i normally do too and when catching up on my tivo.
no, no, no.
my fingertips on a glass is a near constant when i am not working or under the eyes of the owner. it's reflex, it's habit, i like the taste and i like how it makes me feel. the trouble is, lately it's never just one. ever, and i fear i'm becoming compulsive about it. i can't stop myself, i've made numerous scenes and i have had blackouts. i have embarrassed the owner and shamed myself. i am that person talked about by people who don't know me as the drunk messy too-loud chick in the bar.
how is that the woman i have become?
alcohol keeps tight the lid on the well, hiding the goblins, dragons and mean irish ladies who haunt my dreams. it keeps them out of my days. it shunts away all that i can't face.
today is day 5.
how long before the demons see the screws are loose?
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