Days Without Alcohol -26. I didn't go to the party in the end. Too tired. But wouldn't have succumbed. I am too strong! Life is too good at the moment to risk ruining the equilibrium. What have I got myself into? I might never be able to have fun again. Or might have to redefine what fun is. You are all going to enjoy it so much when I slide back into the swamp with the rest of you! I can hear you all clamouring outside my window, like the mindless zombies that you are - join us, join us!
Get away from my window. I am absolutely certain that I will never partake of alcohol again. I don't know the meaning of the word hubris. And I am just about to enter a "define the word hubris" competition. But I'm not worried. I'm pretty confident that I will win it anyway.
Though I feel pretty boring at the moment, at least I know I am not as boring as the people who I sat next to in Pret a Manger at lunchtime. I tuned into their conversation as they were discussing desserts. The woman, a work colleague, I am guessing had a chocolate mousse, but she wasn't enjoying it. The older man then spent some good time monologuing on what kind of puddings he enjoyed. He was, it turns out, not a fan of the chocolate pudding, not that he wouldn't eat a chocolate pudding, he would just prefer other puddings and chocolate pudding would be perhaps his second last choice of pudding. Imagine just talking about a kind of dessert for minutes on end. I would never do such a thing.
It's nothing like the yoghurt thing I did.
Because yoghurt is more interesting that rating where chocolate pudding might come in your list of preferred puddings. But he wasn't a chocolate fan - "though I like a Mars Bar every now and again," he added as if this was essentially a given, "Not too often though, you know, because they're not very good for you, but I like the occasional one or two."
I can only assume the woman was equally dull, or this man was her superior, as she didn't die from mental fatigue as he spoke to her, but actually prolonged the conversation by explaining that she would usually be enjoying her chocolate pudding, but this one was too sweet for her, so she was going to leave it.
Ridiculously I was in such a good, happy clappy mood, thanks to my recent epiphany that the world is somehow better if you experience it without stimulants, that I actually found eavesdropping this nonsense quite amusing and enjoyable.
But not so enjoyable that I will subject you to their next conversation about texting. And who is the real boring man, the man who has worked out that chocolate pudding is his second least favourite dessert and who doesn't understand what texts are, or the man whose life is so empty that he listens in, smiling to himself and then later writes it all down to share with thousands of other people?
It's the first one.
