I actually didn't succumb last night.
I've been gutting my house for about two weeks.
Going room by room, getting rid of 23 years of clutter and "oh I might need that some day"
I've shredded 8 banker's boxes of cancelled checks and other lame stuff starting from about 1989,
and have filled and disposed of 16, twenty gallon bags of recycleables. Not to mention
filling our side yard with BIG stuff that I actually need a dumpster for.
The reason I'm typing this all out, for the reason I didn't drink last night, is because my husband
got home from work at 3:30, sat on his ass and did NOTHING while I cleaned the kitchen.
The kitchen hasn't been tackled yet as one of my jobs and is FREE TO ANYONE to HELP clean it,
so that kind of pissed me off. Mostly because it's perpetually dirty and my husband is usually a
really good helper.
So, all the BACK BREAKING WORK I've been doing, all day every day for 2 weeks straight and him
coming home and sitting on his ass was irritating enough to NOT drink with him because of course
he totally WANTED me to.
Hmph. TAKE THAT.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Yeah, yeah, I know I only would have been hurting myself if I drank, but y'all get it.
I've got a buncha N/A beer lined up for tonight! Hotter than F*ck today in San Jose,
they better chill to perfection come 5pm.