Vacation week

So. Still walking, still drinking less Diet Coke, still cutting down considerably (it feels) on the drinking. Yesterday, nothing. Not one drop and I didn't miss it. But today, driving into town, I picked up a six-pack knowing full well I'd enjoy it tonight.

And I did. But in a good (moderate) way. I had a couple while watching TV and congratulated myself on the restraint I was showing. In fact, I twice collected a bottle and went to tip out the drizzle left and poured out half a beer each time. The fact that I thought I was done with each speaks volumes. We walked the dogs, I drank minimally when we returned home, and all was good.

Yet after my husband went to sleep, as I was making fresh iced tea for tomorrow and running laundry and sweeping the dog hair covered floors, I mixed up two rum-and-cokes. And I can feel the second at this moment, truth be told.

This is exactly what I want to avoid. The feeling of one-more-before-I-hit-the-hay or the-laundry-is-going-so-I-have-to-stay-up-and-why-not-have-another-in-the-meantime.

I was so proud of myself earlier, but put it this way: I would not under any circumstances drive a car. And that's not good.

I've been on vacation for the last week and for the most part I've been pleased with my drinking or lack thereof. But tonight, just in the last twenty minutes, I feel like a line has been crossed and I don't like that.