Restless Late-Night Scheming

  I got home from work an hour ago and tried to go to bed, but I can’t sleep.  

   (Work sucked, by the way.  I tutored a student this morning, so I got paid in cash for that, but I made a grand total $20 at the Studio.  For the second day in a row, nothing was happening.  I don’t get it.  Why?  Where are the men?  Out on Long Island, not having sex with their wives?  Cleaning their grills in anticipation of Independence Day?  What?  Where?)

      So here I sit, blinking owlishly at the computer monitor.  


      A girl at work was drinking marshmellow-flavored vodka.   I could smell it from across the room.  It smelled delicious.  My mouth watered.  UGH!  Disgusting.  It’s been almost a year since I dried out–when will I stop being aware of it…?  

      I have been reduced to scheming, most of the day and once more now.  Restless late-night scheming.  My anxious brain picking up the questions: How are you going to resolve this?  How can you deal with the potentially worst-case scenario?  I pick them up and worry them.  Worry them worry them worry them.  

      I am seriously considering doing something…kinda bad.  (No, not shooting my landlord–ha! ha!)  

      The opportunity–the solution to my insecurity–is there.  All I have to do is do it. 
      But once it’s done, it can’t be undone.  What fresh hell is this, right?  

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