Day 27 started out fine. I did not set an alarm. Working 24 of the last 48 hours I prefer to sleep until I wake up naturally. I woke up rested. At noon. I discovered I was out of leafy greens. Out of tea. Needed to go the market but it was rainy and I was crampy and my knee hurts just a little and the absence of spinach in my refrigerator was shaping up into an unreasonably bumming situation.

I was pretty content to stretch out in bed watching more motivated people excel at their chosen sports on my television but eventually I had to go gather leaves and berries and whatnot. I do that now. The day I decided to skip the liquor I also decided to change my diet completely. I think it was a good idea. It framed the giving up of alcohol as just one part of a larger lifestyle change.

Apparently not having my new healthy food friends in the fridge threw me out of my new routine enough to push my mood into the whiny why-is-nothing-ever-right zone. I procrastinated past the good gym time. I couldn’t find my car key or my driver’s license and wondered if this was a lesson in patience or the universe telling me to stay home because there’s an 18 wheeler out there with my name on it. The organic market didn’t have the fish I wanted, the regular market didn’t have the kale I wanted or the tea I wanted and I found myself fighting tears at the check out. Why does nobody have soft fruit candy?? I do not enjoy whiny why-is-nothing-ever-right me. She’s a real brat and a drag. So here I am with no beer in my buggy, no Bloody Mary mix, no nothing that is going to take the edge off the dislike I have for myself at this moment for feeling defeated by a less than stellar grocery shopping experience.

And it’s fine. I got home, I played with the dog, I ate something, I got hydrated with water, I watched that other-worldly talent that is Simone Biles stumble on the balance beam and seem even more awesome in that brief moment when she looked to be of this world. I put on the super soft t-shirt that I found on sale for seven bucks last week in all its fair labor glory and got into my bed with my nice new sheets and my sweet dog snuggled up beside me.

I am so happy and grateful and relieved and proud that I can notice the softness of my shirt, the comfort of my bed, the dog nudging my feet with his head. It is a different feeling than going to bed drunk. Better. Safer. More alive. More dignified.

I had a bad day. I accomplished nothing. I was in a bad mood. I cried for no reason. And it’s ok. I read and I wrote and I didn’t drink poison because I felt uncomfortable for a few hours. It was a bad sober day because I am still me whether I’m sloshed or dry as a bone. And my less attractive qualities include moodiness and feeling persecuted by Whole Foods who sold all the white fish on purpose before I got there. My better qualities include a sense of gratitude, a huge heart and the courage to keep trying. So instead of cloaking myself in my failures tonight, my heart is full because I had a bad bitchy day and I don’t need a stiff drink to spend the night with myself. That’s good enough for now. Day 27, you could have been better. But I can think of about 1600 days that were worse.