Sick, tired, hungry
Your author neither sick nor tired, but a bit hungry
Shortly after I quit drinking, but long enough to feel the lack of general shittiness that had enveloped me over the last 10-15 years, I was moving stuff around in my office/music studio. I was on my back, trying to lift a piece of heavy audio gear into place. Next to me was a pile of solid wood shelves, leaning against a filing cabinet. I bumped the pile and a single shelf fell on my forehead like “whap!” I was shocked for a moment, not knowing what had happened. I reached up and touched my forehead and saw blood on my fingers. In the bathroom mirror I saw a neat cut, about an inch long, across the middle of my forehead. I laughed.
I laughed with joy. I had hurt myself, and I was sober. Totally clean, hydrated, teeth brushed and flossed, showered, and just a clutz. It was the most amazing feeling. I was the same David, stubbornly doing a complex project involving heavy things by myself (god forbid I ask for help), and I had hurt myself, just like I would have done had I been 4-5 beers in, which would have been normal for a project like this.
Today in Brooklyn, probably where you live, too, there is a constant wariness around covid infection and especially the “omicron” variant, which while less threatening in some ways, is much more easily transmitted. My family is vaxxed and two of us are boosted (the third will be when he’s eligible), but we have plenty of friends and acquaintances who are vaxxed and boosted who have gotten covid over the past month.
So every day in my apartment, one or more of us is like “did I not get enough sleep?” “is it my allergies?” “is it too dry in here?” “am I getting my period?” (the latter is just one of us) and of course “shit - maybe it’s covid.” But until today (January 2), the day after my partner had a St. Knut’s cocktail at a new year’s day Brooklyn stoop get-together, it has never been “is it because I drank last night?” My partner last drank maybe a year ago. She’s not a teetotaler, she just rarely drinks. She did not feel good this morning, and she realized it was the alcohol from the day before.
I was not smug about this in the least. I felt bad for her because I know what that feels like.
But…
What a luxurious feeling: when I feel shitty it could be food poisoning, it could be allergies, it could be covid… but it’s never that I drank too much.
What a money-saver: I don’t have to review my last 12 hours of emails to see what ridiculous thing I ordered online and would be too proud to return.
What a life-changer: when I do truly feel bad I can go to the doctor and not lie about how much I drink and dread the blood tests. “Liver function normal” used to make me incredulous, and now I’m like “damn straight.”
(BTW - I’m giving blood in the photo up-top; NYC has a one-day supply of blood since donations are way down at the moment. If you’re able to, consider giving blood! A single donation can help three other people. PSA over.)
I love you,
David
