It’s been 56 days since we’ve had a cocktail. Our closet is crammed with all of our favorite booze, because we stocked up at Costco in Las Vegas before we came out here to the sticks. But we haven’t touched a drop.
What does this have to do with full-time RVing? A lot. I’ll get to that. Meanwhile, we’ve been on the wagon, living like Mormons.
No gin and tonics.
No blue drinks.
The Drinking and Full-time RVing Connection
Now here’s the RVing connection: full-time RVers love their happy hour. No matter where you are out there on the road, if you’re hanging around other travelers, you don’t need an excuse to meet up over cocktails. And although we aren’t retired, as self-employed people without a clock to punch, it’s easy to repeatedly over-indulge when you can create a work schedule around hangover recovery.
Laying off the sauce was a mutual choice. Things came to a frothy head fifty six days ago, when, after a particularly indulgent evening, I realized that I hadn’t stopped drinking for any significant amount of time, at least since I was old enough to appreciate the positive effects of alcohol-induced inebriation, back in high school . . . a LONG time ago.
That’s when I started wondering:
If I stopped drinking, would I feel worse or better? Would my hands shake? Could I cope with work or road stress without a 5 o’clock freshie? What would happen if I just . . . stopped?
I had to know if I was an alcoholic, or not. And Jim agreed to try it too.
So far, so good. The first two weeks sucked as we acclimated to punching a clock here at the ranch, all while trying to keep our other income balls in the air. During the first few days of workampingranch, I was jonesing for a freshie. And I could have had one, very easily. I look right at those brand new, unopened bottles of booze every day.
But I had to know if I was strong enough to resist the temptation.
And now, here’s what I know for sure: I’m not an alcoholic. I didn’t get the shakes when I stopped. I feel pretty good overall. And when it comes down to it, I don’t need the booze. I love good cocktails. I love to get liquored up. I look forward to happy hour. But I don’t need to drink. Now I’m sure of it.
Therefore, on August 8, my birthday, we will celebrate going on the wagon . . . by falling off of it! With cocktails. Lots of them.