First up in this ill-thought out series of 52 weekly mini-resolutions, I’m going to join with tradition and do what millions have done before me by quitting drinking. I’m sure I’m joined by many with ears still ringing from the fireworks, and nursing hangovers from ringing in the New Year with a few too many shots. The phrase “never drinking again” is generally adapted to “one won’t hurt” after a few days, but I’ll stick it out for a week at least.
These days I have a toddler and a second baby on the way, so it’s hard to party like it’s 1999. One of the advantages of living in California though is that you have the pick of timezones to celebrate with. London is 4pm, so I can watch the fireworks in the late-afternoon sun. New York City is 9pm. Many a New Year’s Eve is ruined, based on the experience of my admittedly unsexy youth, by being an hour or two too long. Everyone’s a bit drunk and knackered by the time the bass drops. Or big, sparkly ball thing drops, if you’re in NYC.
This year we went to a party with friends and totally nailed New Year’s Eve by not really paying much attention to the timing. I highly recommend it. Eat, drink, hang out with interesting people, rescue your toddler from poking toys into an open fireplace, then celebrate the New Year along with, presumably, some seals on an obscure Atlantic island, before going home to sleep. This is my life now, and I’m quite happy with it.
Still, I did manage to sink a decent amount of premium dark rum (a phrase I’m using to make Bacardi sound cool). And prevented by a restless toddler from getting the necessary sleep to flush the alcohol and dead braincells, I was feeling it in the morning.
The morning, by the way, is unacceptably early when you have a small child. Ours tends to wake around 6am, and though he can usually be persuaded to lie down again for a bit, that persuasion must be done in person and therefore requires daddy to climb out of bed, pull on some of yesterday’s clothes, and employ quite sophisticated negotiation techniques. With the end result that when daddy talks him off the ledge, removes yesterday’s clothes and slides back under the duvet, he then gets to spend the next precious and hard-earned minutes lying reluctantly awake, pondering his life choices.
To the point. I quit drinking for a week. It was pretty easy, because I’m not a raging alcoholic, though I was quite excited when I realized it was day 8 and I could finally try the Winter Ale that had been staring at me from the fridge. Everyone should go without alcohol ever so often. It’s a nice way to clear your head, sleep better, and give yourself a little breather. Though you do need to be cautious. If like me you habitually head to the fridge (or liquor cabinet) in the evening, you need to be careful that you don’t simply replace the booze with another habit. My new vice is herbal tea. My weed of choice is chamomile. Adulthood not working out to be any sexier than youth, then.