A Confession and a Cup of Tea

I start my first day with a confession. We were walking, talking, and I was policing the next sentence forming in my mind because a certain word was crying to be used. And then a string of words just slithered out, unnoticed by me, with no remorse.

Timothy and Alan fined me only $3 for the slip. We agreed at breakfast this morning that an F-word is a $50 fine and other words, depending on context, have a sliding scale for fines. At the end of the month I'll either buy a nice bottle of brandy or donate the cash to an addict.

Detox Tea or Me?
That's the confession. The many cups of detox tea and waffles with no syrup carried me through the day, as did my dear friends (who by the way taunted me throughout the day with explicatives and dangled chocolate in front of me). I'm a strong woman. I can make it.

DAY ONE has been long, but rich with laughter and gratitude. Thank you all.

A Word On Drinking
Apologies for the drunken blog last night. Or maybe not. It's a perfect example of why I'm doing this. Last night, as my bed twirled and my mind twisted around the coming 31 days, I suddenly realized I don't like being drunk. I was irritated that I couldn't put two sentences together and I was uncomfortable that I checked out (mentally) some time between 11 and midnight. After decades of enjoying a few good drinks (or more) and the accompanying warming buzz and blur of consciousness, I realized last night I prefer clarity. Clarity with a glass of ruby claret. Just a glass. In 30 days.