Going on the Wagon

by Bella Rum

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This is in the foyer, and that’s an old carpenter’s box that H’s stepfather made. I have several of them in various sizes. This one is filled with candy canes and some pinecones that H stole from the other side of our backyard fence. The wreath hanging on the mirror is from Dollar Tree. I’ve had it for years, and I love it.

I had an appointment to get my hair cut on Wednesday, but when I arrived at the salon, Cindy (another hairdresser) told me that my hairdresser Brooke was sick. She was in the back but was experiencing nausea. She offered to make another appointment for Thursday (yesterday). Fine by me. Everyone gets sick. Poor Brooke. She also mentioned that she had tried several times to call me, but there was no dial tone, nothing. I realized that Brooke and I had probably forgotten to put my new number in the system. Done. Thanks to Cindy, my number was now in the system, and I had my appointment set for 1:00 pm the next day (yesterday). I was off to do a little grocery shopping.

Yesterday morning, Cindy called and said Brooke was still very sick. She had vertigo and could I come in on Monday. Fine with me. Poor Brooke. I’ve had vertigo, a violent case of it, and I ended up in the hospital. I know what vertigo can be like. I hope she recovers quickly. Poor, poor Brooke. And poor me. Not that this is about me, but I desperately need a haircut. I had already waited longer than I should have to make the original appointment. Know what I mean?

I finished my Christmas cards yesterday. They will go in the mail today.

I received a bill (second notice) for our community association dues. Second notice? Really? My dues are only $100 annually. It’s a very small community and has no pool, etc. It’s mainly for the plantings and maintenance of the entrance to the community and a small, lovely area at the end of one of the streets. I’ve never lived in a neighborhood with such low dues. I have no idea how we missed the first bill or if we even received it. Nice way to get a rep with the neighbors. We’re the couple who doesn’t pay their bills. I guess everybody’s gotta be somebody.

I got on the scales this morning, and I refuse to talk about it.

I’ve decided to give up wine. Yep. Only because I should: calories, relaxing of muscles (heart muscle in particular), the possible effects on medication (even though I’ve had no problems), blah, blah, blah. I like wine before dinner, but I’m moderate. My cardio guy reminded me anyway to be extra cautious and moderate during the holidays; I guess because people tend to imbibe more during this time of year. Fine by me.

Alcoholism irrigates my family tree. That’s why I’ve probably been a little more careful about drinking than the average person. It still bothered my sister if I even had a sip. When you’re the kid of alcoholics, you’re always wary of the dog that bites, but food is my addiction, compulsion, obsession. It was her’s, too.

This little saunter into abstinence is an experiment. I’m hoping it will improve my sleep. See there? Everything comes back to sleep for me. It’s my job, my big fish that got away, my heart’s desire, my failed child that I tried so hard to raise the right way. Alcohol can relax you and help you fall asleep, but when the effects leave your system, you wake. Sound like anyone we know? So far, this newfound abstinence has not made an impact on my sleep, though. Maybe in time. Oh, well. Whatever will be, will be. I need to drop the calories, and that’s one of the easiest ways to do it.

A cup of low-fat hot cocoa, anyone?

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