To say I've been dreading this month of Discipline Year would be too dramatic, but I will admit I'm not excited about it. November means no alcohol, which means no relaxing with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer once the workday is done, which I do most evenings while making dinner or catching up with one of my many beloved, crappy TV shows… When does the next Bachelor start? That train wreck goes down so much smoother with a large glass of red.
I picked November for my prohibition because a) Thanksgiving will make it more of a challenge, b) it's thirty days, like rehab, and c) I liked the sound of "Novembooze".
I have to spend this afternoon in the city, which is fortunate, as it'll upend my schedule and hence my daily habits, so hopefully I won't be missing my glass-of-something come five or six, when I start getting dinner put together. Losing the comfort of the habits—wine, sugar, coffee, watching TV—is the hard part. Getting used to a little crutch being gone sucks, but it only sucks for a few days, until you've replaced it with something else. I have a lot of Angry Birds levels to catch up on… Maybe I'll swap a drink for that. Ah, mindless vices.
There is one possible exceptional circumstance built in to this month's mandate, however. On the off-chance I get word that Blaze wants my latest proposal, I will let myself have champagne. But it's far more likely I'd get a revision request first. So an official acceptance, should I get one, likely won't happen this month. And even if it did, maybe I'll be good and celebrate with something else. Cheez Doodles, perhaps. Because I keep it classy.
Anyhow, expect fewer random tweets between five and seven p.m. from me and my evil twin this month.
