I'm learning

I woke up from my post work nap with dreams of iced drinks still in my head. So I rattled them loose and now am updating before I go in search of food. Huh. Monday night. I am on a not drinking kick for a little bit, a detox, which not only a) will save me money, but b) will make me stop waking up feeling like shit and wanting to kill everything and everyone. Laundry needs to be done, and I still have this pile of shit that I need to find a home for cluttering up my room. Honestly, this got out of hand months ago, and at this point I'm considering just pouring gasoline on the whole freakin thing and walking out, tossing my lit cigarette into the fumes as I turn away.

I had about eight plans die in midbirth last night, mostly due to the weather, but the improvised, last minute one stuck, and so I went over to Jamie's and watched tv with her, while we debated the pros and cons of actually eating food. This was infinitely better than going to a party where I knew no one and inevitably would have ended up alienating everyone there once the eighth or ninth bourbon glided down my gullet.

The laundry is in the machine. My shoes are on. I am going out to grab some food, and then I'll come home and put the laundry in the dryer, after which I'll lock myself in the room in order to actually try and finish some of these stories who have been lying around for weeks, sometimes months. I will not, as is my habit, crack a beer before starting. I will not, as is my habit, distract myself, or distract you, for that matter, because I have been doing far too much of that and you need to do things to, though it pains me to admit this, things more important than hanging out with me.

So anyway, off to find food for me. Wheres my playstation?