Tonight was better than last night, because I realized there is a cure (well, let's call it a palliative) for anxiety: alcohol. Not too long after I got home, Son 2 told me "You're starting to do it again" (which tells me he was indeed awake last night). I thanked him, ... and poured myself a drink. Much better. Then the only trick during the rest of the evening was to drink just enough that I was relaxed and joking, while keeping it little enough that I didn't become an asshole. Sometimes I worry about where I might go with too much to drink, but tonight (ahem, hrum) it was ... purely medicinal.
I wonder if I can just drink my way through the next week? Probably not a good idea, huh? Tempting, though.
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