Today I had a massive “craving” at around 5 p.m. We were driving home from a busy day doing nice things for other people, and I felt like I deserved a reward. My partner then said “I might have a bottle of wine tonight”, which was obviously totally fine, and we were going to the shop anyway and so we got her some vino. I briefly thought “I’ll get myself 3 bottles” (seriously), and then dismissed the idea as I couldn’t bear the thought of guzzling a load of wine. We were in and out of the shop and I barely glanced at the booze aisle.
As we were driving away though, I started thinking about the “reward” of having a few shorts, and how “great” it would be to relax and sink a few Red Stag and cokes (cherry flavoured bourbon – yes, I’m being serious). I had started thinking about booze at around lunchtime today if I’m honest. This thought stayed lurking pretty quietly in the back of my mind, and I knew we had none at home and wouldn’t be going to another shop. I tried to play it forward and all that jazz, and yet all I could imagine was the “lovely feeling” (FFS) that a few spirits would bring as I enjoyed my Saturday night, having damn well earned it after befriending old folks all day. I then realised, to my horror, that I had forgotten something pretty vital from the shop and so we had to stop again. Enter danger zone – I was going into a shop on my own, mid-craving, heading home on a Saturday evening with no reason to drive early tomorrow. I knew I’d at least peruse the booze aisle. But I decided to get my vital bits first.
Enter the skank shelf. For those of you in the UK you will fully appreciate the concept of the Reduced Items shelf that rears its beautiful head at around tea time, slashing the cost of everything by about 75%, We call it the skank shelf, and we love it. The problem is, I end up buying all sorts of complete crap that we would never ordinarily eat, and I always end up giving it away. There is just something about a packet of dough balls for ONE PENCE, that entices me to buy them, even if I transport them between houses over the Christmas period and end up throwing them away anyway (true story).
Anyway, I digress. I accidentally (yeah right) ambled past the skank shelf this evening, to see organic chunky houmous on offer for 10p a tub. Yep, 10p. I picked up all ten of the buggers. There was also some café latte flavoured fresh milk (wtaf?) for 10p a bottle. I heaved as many of them as I could into my tiny basket, and then struggled all the way to the checkout, in a hurry so as to avoid dropping everything and so that I could proudly “show off my skank” when I got back to the car.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realised I hadn’t given the booze aisle a second thought. Now I’m firmly ensconced, full of curry (again 🐷) and ready to watch the Darts World Championship (and, as my partner so eloquently puts it, “scratch my balls” whilst watching it – she obviously perceives me to be somewhat masculine when I’m cheering on Phil the Power Taylor with my cup of tea).
On a separate note, I was followed for miles by a police car today. Well, not followed, they were just behind me (in my booze focussed brain, they are ALWAYS following me, having been tipped off about my heavy drinking by a random – paranoid much?!), but my heart didn’t even race one little bit. I almost shouted out of the window “breathalyse me pleeeeeaaaaassssseeee Occifer”. I actually seriously considered flipping them the bird so they’d pull me over, then realised that I’m 35 and not 15 so should probably act more appropriately.
What is it about the “promise” of a good evening that the thought of booze brings? Why do I think it’ll be anything other than one hour of a bit of a buzz, followed by the inevitable shit storm that drinking brings? Someone wrote the following on my blog recently:
“If you do what you always did, you get what you always got”.
How true. Well tonight I didn’t do what I always did, and now I have got houmous and milk. Lots of it. Thanks skank shelf – I potentially owe you my Day 12 😆