The title says it all – I’m considering tonight why I must throw myself into things so damned hard, and why those “things” are usually bad things.

I’ll explain.  For the last two weeks, Mr Red and I have been literally hibernating each evening, and living in the gloriously entertaining (and dare I say it, boobilicious) world of Game Of Thrones. We bought the box set, binge-watched series 1 – 4, consuming three, on occasion even four episodes per night. We pre-ordered series 5 to arrive the day of release, and we’ve continued in the same style. And to accompany this, we’ve been eating a smorgasbord of meats, cheeses, breads, and of course gallons of wine. We do like to get in character; we even had wild boar last night for goodness sake. From Lidl, I hasten to add. There was a rather thrilling warning on the packaging that it may contain pieces of lead shot. Yikes! How delightfully barbarian.

Each following morning, I’ve been waking feeling ropey, swearing not to drink that night and typically by lunchtime my resolve has failed. I’ve been easily managing to stay sober the three nights of the week before my work days, but the rest have involved at least a bottle of wine to myself, often a bit more.

I confess I’ve not felt a massive motivation to reign myself in yet, as I mostly feel like I’m doing ok. However my sensible brain is also aware that this is utter bollocks.

I’ve also been struggling massively with feeling life can’t be fun without beer and wine. Not so much on the G.O.T nights; to be honest, I think that the alcohol adds little to this. Frighteningly, a bottle barely gives me a buzz these days. And I’ve been an absolute sod for falling asleep multiple times in the last episode of the night. When I’ve watched it sober, I can stay awake and riveted to the end, with plenty of energy to rail on against why there needs to be quite so many “boomers” on display in every episode, whilst simultaneously drooling over Jaime Lannister.

The thing I really struggle with, are occasions like this last Saturday. A child-free afternoon and night, a trawl around our local craft beer havens, followed by home, music, silly dancing. Air guitar. It was SO much fun. But Sunday morning was not, as you can imagine.

My brain tells me that I will lose this if I stop, all this spontaneous fun. (However Anne from Ainsobriety is constantly proving me wrong here,  what with all the fun she’s been having going to gigs!!). I wonder if I can stop drinking during the week, and then “save” myself for bingey, fun blowouts? And I also know this not to be true – I can’t moderate in anything, no, I throw myself in, hedonistic and head first, weak woman that I am.

Another thing is work. My job, and Mr Red’s business is basically all about wine and beer. Literally. I’m expected to drink! (In moderation of course). How is there a place here for a sober Red? Where will I fit?

I also wonder what I could achieve if I stopped. If I could throw my addictive headlong personality into honing my body, making myself stronger? Just fucking improving? Could that be the answer? Could the endorphins provide the rush I constantly crave?

I’ve decided to continue blogging here even though I’m not on “that train” at the moment, as I’m still thinking, thinking, thinking, and evaluating all the time. I still appreciate all the incredible support from you all, I hope to live up to it soon.

Red xx

Ps for any concerned animal lovers, the cat is alive and well, just still slightly (ahem) shaved looking.




Smelly cat

Or words to that effect.. So, the three little Redlets slept beautifully last night. Red, however, did not. This was in part due to time spent digesting the massive Singapore Udon/Prawn Toast mountain which I tried to cure the hangover with. (This never works and simply drags out said hangover. When will I learn? Oh, wait..that sounds familiar.. ). It was also possibly due to the nightsweats I suffered; a classic Red detox. But it was mainly due to my very poorly cat, who took up residence under the chest of drawers in my bedroom, and spent the night shuffling round in a dejected fashion and occasionally yowling at me.

Yesterday, I noticed the poor creature hadn’t eaten for over 24 hours, and was looking decidedly “peaky”. And he’d pulled a lot of fur out too. I took him to the vets, only to discover he had a massive abcess on his lower back, helpfully concealed under all the ginger fur. The vets were quite shocked at the size of it. And I started to add two and two together, and realised that the bastard thing must have been brewing for about 2 weeks. Poor, poor little sod.

Anyway – he had it lanced today back at the vets. They were still talking about it in wonder when I collected him; I think the entire staff had been and gawked at the unfortunate creature. All this got me feeling extremely guilty. I really should have noticed his decline, as looking back it was fairly obvious, but I was too busy having “fun”.

I also had to prepare said cat a place to recover on getting home, and this involved me moving the mountain of paperwork and “stuff” which had accumulated over the last 6 months or so. You know, that stuff that comes through the letterbox requiring action, and all the kids paintings that come home from pre-school, letters from school, severed dolls heads etc etc. It’s horrendous – it’s actually four separate heaps of crap and I’m slightly scared to start going through it for fear of what I’ll discover. Probably a map to some lost city, or a new strain of mold that will trigger the zombie apocalypse.

So. Upshot of all this is that I’m not good at taking responsibility for things/cats when I’m drinking. In fact I’m an out and out hassle-avoiding hoarder. And so I’m looking forward to getting some more Shit Done during this new period of sobriety. And also being a better pet-owner; for any animal lovers out there reading this, the cat is now safely back home, with a bag of antibiotics, and massive wound-drain. Oh, and my utility room now looks like something out of one of the more nightmarish Hieronymous Bosch paintings. Some may say this is a just revenge. I will be purchasing guilt-laden cat treats tomorrow..

Red xx