On Sunday, I:

  1. went to hot yoga
  2. showered
  3. napped
  4. ate breakfast and lunch
  5. jigsaw puzzled a bit
  6. manned a GS cookie booth with my kid
  7. stopped for donuts at a new place (it ain’t no KK)
  8. painted on my paint by number with my kid
  9. ate dinner and helped clean it up.

It was a good day.  Even still, I thought about drinkin, longingly, if not for long.  Hubs has his red solo cup.  I woulda liked to join him.  But I didn’t.

I remember a long time ago blogging about how I missed Sunday drinking.  This wasn’t like that.  There wasn’t as much recent familiarity with Sunday drinkin and so the longing wasn’t so intense.  The amount of time I spent reminiscing felt shorter, too.  It drug on throughout the afternoon when I last wrote about it.  Whether I want to, or try to, or not, my relationship with alcohol keeps changing as I keep freezing it out of my life and finding other stuff to do and think about.  It’s kinda funny how I am just doing the same thing over and over (saying no the vino), but still changing.