my silver tea pot and fancy tea cup.

My co-workers aren't as amused as they should be by this, frankly.

However it's becoming a liability because I keep looking at it and hissing "nightsssss" to myself.

I smoked pretty much from my early teens until I met DH in my mid 30s. Smoking was a deal breaker for him. 24 or so years later that is one of the seriously long list of reasons I am grateful for him in my life.

I am not a judgemental person by nature, but my son smoking is completely unacceptable to me. Any parent that has treated their child gasping for breath repeatedly with the nebulizer for years would be in my camp. The last time I had to do it was when he was 3, shortly after his last smoking grandparent died. Every time he visited them his lungs got inflamed. Yeah, I got an issue with it.

And yet I have ashtrays outside for my brother and other friends that smoke, because it isn't my desire ever to make decisions for adults. My kid will never be in that category.

Oh, and when I quit I used hot tea as a substitute. The ritual, the amount of time, the heat, the oral; it was my substitute.

Since life doesn't work with the timing of cinema, there are no rehab places with an open spot within 5 hours of my brother. Woo.

So for the time being, he's trying to taper down his drinking with 3.2% beer and nothing else, with a backup that if he gets sick (I am not thinking the word "seizure" I am not IamnotIamnot) he'll have to go to the ER.

I get that it's the best of his short-term options (#1: fuck it, keep drinking like he's in Leaving Las Vegas; #2: go cold turkey and bring on the seizures [oops, guess I'm thinking it]; #3: taper down his drinking). But I feel like he would have a much better chance if he were in rehab, not drinking 3.2% beer in his living room.

Gah.

Oh dear, Teppy. I send all kinds of obstacle smashing vibes.

Eta - mobile posting stuff

Unfortunately, that's a common obstacle, Tep. Alcohol withdrawal, even under medical supervision, is a bitch and a half, so tapering does make sense. I hope something opens up for him soon. Are they checking outpatient help also? Sometimes those are easier to get into.

And if he can get in somewhere further away, he might consider that, too. I'm sure your SiL would like to be nearby, but inpatient programs don't necessarily have visitation all that often, anyway. And he won't care where he is for a while, probably.

Total first world problem: I can't zoom through the commercials in the hotel. How did I manage before DVR?

Why do I see one of the Buffista couples having this conversation?

When I'm dead, I want you to put me in a Wonder Woman outfit and push me out of a moving plane

Ack, Steph. He's been drinking that much he may get DTs, or am I forgetting something about his health? At any rate, I hope something opens up for him soon.

I ended up taking flexeril and a nap. Did not do any more admin work today. Just finished cooking, eating, and cleaning up from dinner; now it's time for shower and bed. And I didn't get to the grocery store (the one near me closes in 20 min, and I just can't hustle) so for the 2nd day in a row I won't have milk in my coffee, woe.

It's interesting (objectively; subjectively I fucking hate it) that my modes are either being super hard on myself or I rationalize everything (like buying stripper heels while trying to get out of debt). And because I'm so talented, I can do both at the same time, like I am right now.

Rationalization: my back was hurting and it was hard to focus, so I took a nap. Boss said I could rest and take it easy.

Self-flagellation: Yeah, and then I fucked about on the internet for hours. So now I either report my hours as worked and get a short paycheck, or stay up working and be all sleepy and stupid tomorrow morning.

I hate myself, I'm lazy, I'll never get out of debt, I can't do anything right, StW doesn't really care about me - these are the messages echoing over and over again in my head. I'm putting them out here (again) to acknowledge them in an "I see you, Mara" [link] kind of way.

Thank god I only get like this once or twice a month now (thanks, PMS, you moody bitch), because I don't know how I kept going when this was all day, every day. I mean, I've been in physical and mental pain for a week, and yet I went to work this morning, I worked while I was there (if not a full day), I cooked a meal from scratch and did All The Dishes, did some menu planning/made a grocery list/estimated how much it would cost, and synched my budget software. And I called the Dept of Rev in my old state to find out where the hell my refund is (it was transmitted today. coincidence or them waiting for people to bitch to release the money?). And I didn't buy cigarettes, so that makes it 5 days no smoking.

That is pretty functional, considering. Two years ago I'd be curled up in the fetal, crying, and maybe choke down a Luna bar for dinner. Chain smoke on the screened porch and watch everything on the DVR.

Right. Shower, read a bit, and bed. I hope I have some Tylenol with codeine left, but I may not. I'm pretty sure I subluxed a vertebra earlier and that's why the right side of my back is screaming. And no, not doing physical work, just doing something random at my house. Again, PMS, you can kiss my ass. The line forms behind L.

When I'm dead, I want you to put me in a Wonder Woman outfit and push me out of a moving plane

I can't believe I didn't predict where that link would take me. I love this from the comments:

Okay… Soooooo I told Mr. Amazing I wanted to be cremated and put in a bubble gum machine… so everyone could get a quarters worth… and scatter me to all four corners… cause no one wants to risk this shit coming back… and … apparently he thinks bone fragments will jam the machine… but really… it was his only argument.