PO Box 1980

Last night, I was filled with anger and resentment. I went to a meeting, but I didn't share what was going on. On my drive home, I began to plot my next drink. I thought, "Hey, Mom will be in bed, my brother will be in his room, Dad won't be home for hours, and there is a half bottle of Black Velvet in the cabinet." I couldn't think of a reason not to drink. Nor could I think of a reason to drink. At dinner, the thought of a drink passed through my mind again. I had a Mountain Dew instead, but still the answer about whether to drink or not did not come to me.