Thursday, July 7, 2011
My, How Things Change
Chelle's at Disneyland with her brother Matt and his family (I couldn't go because I had to work last night--she flew down yesterday.) Last week when I was still reeling a bit from some bad news, I had her remove all liquor and beer from the house. It's just a temporary precaution; why make it easier for myself to act out, as I'm more likely to do when I'm an emotional basket case? So last week, she would just pick up a couple bottles of beer on the way home if she wanted any to drink while watching the ball game on tv, and that way there'd be none leftover in the fridge.
Yesterday she called me from the airport when she got in. "Joyce," she said, "I forgot and left a beer in the refrigerator."
I felt fine. "No big deal. I'm not tempted."
"Well, why don't you just dump it out? There's only one."
"Really. I feel okay now."
"I'd feel better if you got rid of it."
So, keeping her on the phone, I walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, found the beer, and dug in a drawer for a bottle opener. I set the phone down by the sink so she could hear what I was doing. I opened the beer, poured it down the sink, then pitched the bottle into the recycling.
End of story.
Two years ago, I would not have been able to do that.