Monday, December 27, 2004
Christmas is over and I have to say the actual day was not too bad as I had a great dinner at Aud and Bob’s house. What was worse is coming home on December 26th when the support is back to their normal lives. The problem is that even if the support is around the 26th, the 27th or for weeks once they are gone I am left to deal with the loss which can really only be done by myself.
Last night was interesting. After the day of wandering around the house with what felt like the wind knocked out of me I found myself in a funny situation. Does anyone know what a double fisted drinker is? It is an alcoholic that orders two drinks at a time because the waitress cannot serve them fast enough. Last night I was attempting to build the “AB Lounge 2” that Scott gave me for Christmas, of course after a nice dinner I made myself and a Black Russian. One should not try to build anything after any type of cocktail, but Black Russians are pure alcohol. After several minutes of trying to understand the directions I gave up. A few minutes later I find myself being a double fisted peanut brittle eater. Both hands wrapped tightly around the candy knowing with every bite I will crab and complain about my pants being tighter, but for that moment it is the only condolence. I was a pretty sorry sight a half built AB Lounge in the middle of my living room, peanut brittle crumbs stuck on the chest of my sweater with both hands taking turns shoving the sweet pieces of candy into my mouth. I know it does not take Freud to understand what was happening, but I did give up and go to bed, one of the few gifts of my depression as I like to sleep it away.
I did wake up this morning knowing John’s tree which seemed dry as I was taking the holiday lights off of it yesterday is being watered by the lovely rain.
Last night was interesting. After the day of wandering around the house with what felt like the wind knocked out of me I found myself in a funny situation. Does anyone know what a double fisted drinker is? It is an alcoholic that orders two drinks at a time because the waitress cannot serve them fast enough. Last night I was attempting to build the “AB Lounge 2” that Scott gave me for Christmas, of course after a nice dinner I made myself and a Black Russian. One should not try to build anything after any type of cocktail, but Black Russians are pure alcohol. After several minutes of trying to understand the directions I gave up. A few minutes later I find myself being a double fisted peanut brittle eater. Both hands wrapped tightly around the candy knowing with every bite I will crab and complain about my pants being tighter, but for that moment it is the only condolence. I was a pretty sorry sight a half built AB Lounge in the middle of my living room, peanut brittle crumbs stuck on the chest of my sweater with both hands taking turns shoving the sweet pieces of candy into my mouth. I know it does not take Freud to understand what was happening, but I did give up and go to bed, one of the few gifts of my depression as I like to sleep it away.
I did wake up this morning knowing John’s tree which seemed dry as I was taking the holiday lights off of it yesterday is being watered by the lovely rain.
