It’s nice to finally feel like myself again… you know, to no longer be hung-over. It’s especially nice given that I did it to myself on Saturday and today’s Wednesday. (Crap…)
The time has come to take stock, to reassess, to be honest about things and… yeeesh.
First up, I did not need to smoke on Saturday. That’s four days ago and I can still taste it. (And, yes, I’ve brushed my teeth many times.) It left this disgusting, awful… I can’t describe it. It’s a feeling like I should just as well be dead, basically. I’m glad I stopped and wish I’d never picked up those two – yes, just two – cigarettes. Yick.
The other thing that comes to mind is how infernally fat I am. I say “infernally” because it burns me up! With all the cycling and jogging and walking and whatever else, I should not be fat. Fortunately, I have a physical coming up (when I told Sean this, he asked, “Rubber glove physical?”) and I can talk to my doctor about it. It’s not that I’m active… so I’m thinking it might be because I’m a pig. That might have something to do with it; I’m not entirely sure.
Next, if I haven’t said it already, I am so lucky to have Vicky. Let me tell you, she took such great care of me – and I’m not the kind of guy who likes to be in that position. Oh, I like to be pampered, just like any guy, but I hate completely falling apart. I’m not a fan of that. Vicky was so wonderful, though, and just stepped up in a way I know I didn’t deserve. Lucky = Ken.
I’ve also come to realize that the last two years for all of their awfulness have been incredibly beneficial to me as a writer. I have grown demonstrably, significantly… and lots, too. If it wasn’t for the past couple of years and the incredible support Vicky has given me, I would never have had the opportunities to grow that I’ve had, and I am so very grateful.
And so, I come out of this hangover with a sense of relief, yes, but urgency as well. I want to kick the tires and get back in gear with my health and my life. A detour in debauchery was enough. I don’t need any more of that.
Not to mention, the impression Vicky does of me vomiting violently is enough to last her years…