Waking from the dream

Oh dear. It seems that one of the consequences of drinking to escape from all my responsibilities and my endless to-do list is that none of the things I was hiding from actually got done. No Shit, Sherlock, I hear you cry.

Consequently, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. I’ve emerged from my figurative underground hobbit hole to discover that someone (I suspect Sauron) has dumped a pile of paperwork the size of Mount Doom outside my front door. The temptation to shut said door, and head for the cellar to eat cold meats and cheese is huge.

I admit, I’m feeling slightly panicky and overwhelmed. That could be the coffee, but more likely the fact I’ve a ton of shit to sort. If I think about it right now, it kind of goes “right, here goes, so I’ve got “A” to do, then “B” then, oh shit, forgot about “C” until it’s “woah, woah, too much, I’ve forgotten my fecking alphabet, this is too big, help, brain shutting down in blind paniiiiccckkk”.

Obviously the temptation to blot all this out by twisting a screw-top and glug glug-glugging is huge. I’ve had a few overwhelming cravings over the last two days, but I’ve mostly rationalised my way through them. I even busted one by suddenly doing star jumps in the kitchen, much to the surprise and delight of my 5 year old son.

I think I need to try to find some balance here. I’m basically assuming that because I’ve stopped drinking, a years worth of shizzle will be magically resolved, my house will become clean and I will wake-up a skinny, energetic, super-mummy.  This Is Not The Case. What I need to do is get my scruffs on, find a bloody big spade, and start digging. Or make a list – yes, that’ll do!

Right. Here goes.

1. Tax return

2. Aaaarrrggghhh!!!!!

Red xx