Most of my remaining friends and family blame alcohol for my condition. Whenever I want a drink now, I get the lecture. So, not only am I blaming myself, I have verbal re-reinforcements that help confirm it.

Questions like "Do you really need that drink?" pop up all the time. Sometimes it happens on the first one, which implies quitting completely. Now I'm getting full lectures often, mostly from the people directly involved in that early April incident, and that still care about me.

Shelby's getting better, she's pretty much laid it in my lap. She's offering me an opportunity to get myself well, to beat an addiction, and it's totally up to me to win and succeed, or to fail and die.

What I've learned in my old life, is that lecturing is counter-intuitive. The person being lectured already feels terrible, and dumping your one sided opinions on them, just hurts, and they often feel worse.

It's almost 9pm and I've had some breakfast, ate a lime popcicle for dinner, and I'm fine. I'm sitting at the big round table with my two round chairs and the little round table in between, writing this post in crazy heat with the garage door wide open into the neighborhood, and I'm home.

As I look around I realize I have landed once again, with the few physical possessions I value from my long life, around me. Those that I don't have anymore, don't matter. I guess that includes people.

btw: I've been writing this, sitting next to a great liquor cabinet, and I haven't had a fucking drink all day!