Feeling All Right

We read a story out of The Book this morning.  When alcoholics remember what it was like when they were drinking there is almost always some recollection about the first drink and how it made a confusing, isolating world all right.  There was a before - where we didn't fit in - and there was an after - when everything was alllllll right.  It was literally like flipping a switch - this is bad, and now this is good.  We were consumed with doubt and anxiety, uncomfortable in our own skins, and then we felt alllllll right.

Most of us drank too much the first time we drink.  Most of us felt like shit the next day while simultaneously hoping that we could do it again, real soon.  The first time I drank in a social situation was in the basement of a high school friend.  I don't remember the lead up to lying on a cement basement floor for a few hours but I do remember how cool and comforting that cement was on my cheek.  I remember that the spinning stopped as long as I stayed still.  I don't remember feeling bad about lying there, either, no sense or remorse or regret.  I was just lying down for a while in a dark corner of a concrete basement, on the floor.  That seemed to be appropriate.  Eventually someone came and hoisted me to my feet and off I went on a ten year drunk.

Our wonderful painter friend is gone now.  It took him approximately twice as long to do the work as he estimated it would.  I think he knows how much money he needs to pay his bills and I think our job provided him with enough money to pay his bills for twice the length of time that he estimated.  I don't think he was in any big hurry to get done once he figured that out.

Now, he did a great job - it was slower than I would have liked but it was better than I expected.  If he had worked more quickly I would have been happier but if he didn't do as good a job I would have been less happier.  See how it is with me?  You can't win.  If you're slow but good I focus on the slow - if you're fast but sloppy I focus on the sloppy.

I can spot a defect at a thousand yards.  At night.  With a blindfold on.  In a driving snowstorm.  
It's what I do.