Dry July, day six
The convenient thing about Dry July is that I will be celebrating the completion of a month of sobriety on my birthday. That means that on the 1st of August I shall wake up, crack open a bottle of champagne and eat strawberries.
Incidentally, the first day of August is a Monday: no official work commitments other than clocking on to do small one care. I’m sure he’ll be happy that I’ll be happy that we’ve made it through a month sans lubricant.
It’s a funny concept, Dry July, because while you’re raising money for cancer patients in hospitals, you’re also doing something for yourself; cleansing the body of toxins and kicking the urge to round out the corners of bumpy roads. Accept that what is now, just is.
And there I go sounding like Buddha on the Mountaintop. As has been my wont over the last five days. Groan. Only another twenty-four to go, people, bear with my maxims please.
