It's been one year and forty-seven days since my last drink.
Today I decided to visit Gramps and Grandma, so I stopped by Williams Liquors for his usual airplane bottle of Jim Beam. Williams was my go-to liquor store. My second favorite was Corner Cottage on the other side of town, which had the distinction of being on the way home from work. Also, it was open super late on weekends. But Williams was my favorite.
Whenever I get Gramps's airplane bottle I go to Williams mostly because Corner Cottage doesn't always have them. The last twenty times I went there, they didn't. So even though it's on the way to the cemetery and Williams is not, I go to Williams for it.
Every time I've done this since I quit drinking I have only seen new people working there, but today was different. I saw my usual guy there for a change. He went above and beyond to help me. For example, when I broke my foot and couldn't really get around all that well, he would bring my booze out to the car for me. It was usually a handle of Flesichmann's back then, so I'd give him a twenty. He'd already have my change with him when he came out.
He was very surprised to see me. I can only assume he thought I'd died. I wouldn't blame him, either. Things got pretty rough near the end. If I hadn't stopped when I did, I probably would have died. I might not still be around to write GF #739 as I am doing now.
We talked for a bit, and when I told him I'd quit the booze, he didn't seem too surprised. He knew how much I drank back then. He had to. I came in every other day for a handle of cheap whiskey. Well, almost. When I wasn't going there, I was stopping by Corner Cottage.
Which makes me wonder if maybe the guys there think I died, too. Maybe I should stop by some time. They might think they've seen a ghost.
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