Humpty Numpty

Monday grouch extraordinaire. No time like the present to practice letting stuff go, and I find I’m getting quite good at it. I think when you have alcohol and all its countless negative effects swirling around in your blood stream, you get tangled up in bullshit more and bees are more likely to find their way into your bonnet and stay there. At least this is true for me. I used to hold on to the most ridiculous stuff. It has to be said that Sober Me also holds grudges but at least she’s selective. Drunk Me would hold on to any real or imagined slight and obsess over it for-goddamn-ever. It’s funny actually, because I don’t know how I did all of that – I think it’s one of the things I first noticed when I first got sober, how much hard work it was to drink and then cope with everything that went with it.

As much as sobriety has chilled me out, I’m still Anna and being Anna means I’m grouchy in the mornings and sometimes things piss me off. Booze or no booze, my people tolerance levels have always been, er… …somewhere near the shallow end, shall we say. Right now I am of the opinion that someone I work with is a dimwit. How hard can it be to freaking communicate simple matters? Instead we end up in situations where everything requires twice the work and triple the headache as several people rush around doing the same job and nothing is clear to anyone. This is just about where I realised this is not worth caring about, much less deserving of a spot on my list of fucks to give. Dimwit colleague probably does his best. If I end up having to do a bit of clearing up mess, no sweat. I’m around for how much longer? A couple of months? Six at most? That’s right – no fucks shall be given.

Hmm… Not quite working, I’m still feeling prickly and still very much feel he’s a frustrating and infuriating numpty. Perhaps I can help matters along by listing the things where I’m happier to give a fuck as opposed to stuff I can’t do much about aka work numpty?

Numero Uno: Bambino’s birthday cake. Another colleague showed me a picture of the birthday cake she made for her sister over the weekend, an impressive chocolate creation and apparently she held a speech too. My effort will in all likelihood be a dash’n’grab in Patisserie Valerie or Marks & Spencer, and beyond a ‘happy birthday’ I’ll probably just sob into Bambino’s neck because my baby is growing up too fast. He turns 14 tomorrow, which is so surreal. My little man.  Actually, thinking about it this way makes me realise how fucking great life is. All I have right in this moment to worry about is getting a cake for Bambino. That is the sum total of all my problems at this present time. I’m sure I could find a million things that’d keep me awake all night, but there we are. I’m trying to focus my energy on the stuff that actually matters. And just look – there are only really positive things. I just happen to be in a grouch Monday mood, which I suspect happens to most of us once in a while.

And drinking? Well, now THERE is something to really care about and be grateful for: it couldn’t be further from my mind. I never thought I’d hear myself say that. There may be times – in fact that seems inevitable – when it won’t be quite so rosy, but right now I’m floating along quite happily up here on my Pink Cloud.

Today I’m not going to drink.

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