I have found myself in a slippery slope as of late. Between the constant distraction of trying to make Phoenix like me, the heartache of losing my dog, and the promise of impending summer, I have been majorly unproductive. Instead of participating in one of my greatest joys and cooking for myself everyday, I have been eating out. (That might be because I haven't even bothered to go grocery shopping since putting My Girl down.) Further, I tend to do this eating out after I've had one too many at the micro-brew stop. Every damn day. In the last few weeks I've gone to work hungover more times than I would like to admit.
Thus, I feel like a giant cow. And not one of those cute, happy cows that make California Cheese. A lazy, gross, cow. Covered in flies and expelling methane gas. The cycle is familiar; I've been here before. This shit leads to depression. This version of myself is one I do not wish to reunite with. This version of me is trapped, broke, tired, grumpy, paranoid, and not a fun person to be around. This version needs to take a hike. Literally.
So today, I will make it through the last five hours of my hungover hell. Starbucks and Del Taco will help me survive. I will go home to snuggle My Boy. Cook myself some real food. Wake up tomorrow anew. And if I go visit Phoenix for our happy hour, I'll do my damnedest to keep myself in check. I need my friends to help keep me in line too. To not let me go down that path. I have not yet strayed so far that I can't find my way back.
My entire adult life has been the familiar "1 Step Forward, 2 Back" routine. Time to grow the fuck up and move on.
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