tomorrow will rock

living out of boxes for 3 weeks is getting a bit tiring. i’m here at my cluttered glass desk, facing the very true-white apple screen, in my pjs and it’s 4 pm. i wear the same few outfits because my clothes aren’t unpacked. Today i finally bought a vacuum; it’s a good thing the floors are dark wood, can’t see the dust. i need a bedside lamp before anything else because getting up to turn off the light sucks ass.

good news: yesterday was a spectacular summer day and we were able to walk for 3 hrs, me wearing a tank top and sandals.

today it’s grey.

good news: i slept till 10 am this morning.

my husband’s work situation has changed and we’ve fired his manager and are managing his work ourselves again. he’s also left his separate office and is working from home again since we now have the room. and when I saw we have the room, i mean that this new apartment, in a weird twist of loveliness, has a separate small studio on the 7th floor of this same building – up the service stairs, no elevator. the entire 7th floor is made up of these tiny rooms, one room for each apartment in the building. Built in 1910, the rooms upstairs were for servants, one room per apartment. Now it’s the new room for my husband to work from – upstairs – still leaving at the same time each morning – and too far away for him to just run downstairs for a second (walking up those stairs any more than necessary is painful). He’s installed with a kettle, a box of tea, and no internet connection.

(oh he just came down to tell me that he’s going out tonight and I said “i’m not expecting you now, i’m working.” and he filled up his kettle with water and went back upstairs – no drinking water upstairs either).

that said…

let me say that none of this is possible if i’m not sober.

what is the other version of my life, the drinking version?

wake up twice through the night, hot and anxious, planning to never drink again. finally get up exhausted at 7 am, knowing already that the day is going to suck.

we wouldn’t live in this new apartment if i was drinking. this space needs too much work, decisions, furniture, stuff to be put up, moved, planned. as a drinking girl, i was more interested in booze than anything else. i took the easy way out all the time. more expensive but easy? do that.

i wanted all events over as quickly as possible so that i could have more time to drink.

decide which vacuum to buy? nope. just buy one and keep going.

research contacts in London for my husband’s job? nope. tell him in a fit of anger that his job is up to him and walk away in a huff (nice teamwork, oui?).

run 4 days a week, however slowly? nope. i’d plan to start tomorrow.

eat the leftovers in the fridge? nope. who can be bothered to see into the back of the fridge. order pizza. roast potatoes and call it a meal.

have a ‘meh’ grey day and realize that some days are just grey? nope. id feel like it represented impending doom, i must be dying of something, i must be suffering from something.

now i know some days are grey mondays.

tomorrow i will run, have cake, and interview an alcohol specialist about treatment stuff. tomorrow will rock.