It has been 315 days since my last drink. I think about that last drink sometimes, and I'm glad it was from my own personal aging barrel. I had a sneaking suspicion that it would be my last drink, so I made it count. And it was very, very good.
But it occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that I no longer have a preventative measure in my toolbox. Back in the day, whenever I started feeling sick, I would drink heavily as soon as humanly possible. If you catch a cold or the flu or things like that at just the right time with massive amounts of alcohol, you can save yourself from getting sick.
After 315 days without booze? I can no longer do that. If I start getting the sniffles, I could very well be fucked. I've gone many, many years of getting sick only once a year. I have a suspicion that I might start getting sick on a regular basis like the rest of you who chose not to go down the alcoholic's path.
I haven't gotten sick yet, but then again it hasn't been a full year yet. We shall see . . .
So we're going to take another break. I'm not burned out this time. This time, just like with the end of last year, I'm out of ideas for GF columns. Correction: I have one idea, but I want to save it for #700. Yes, it's the other one about Walter Bishop. It's pretty momentous, so it will be perfect for when I get to that one.
Last break I took was for a week. This time? I'm not sure. I'll just have to accumulate ideas again until I'm good to go. In the meantime, if you want to help me come up with ideas, be my guest. I'll talk about anything. Writing, reading, what it was like to live in a world where the internet wasn't a constant presence, how sexy I used to be, anything about Gramps I might not have covered, whatever. Let me know.
Goodnight for now, you glorious fuckers. Have a good Memorial Day. Don't die.
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