Mindlock | moonshadoe's Blog

(5:54AM) This entry probably won't be very long, and where have I said that before? I woke up in a hu-hum frame of mind, probably a carryover from yesterday's version of ho-hum. I tend to get myself down in an emotional rut for no real good reason, then I have to try and climb back out of it. The last week or so has been a lot like that, and maybe it's just a an adjusting thing. Yesterday was the wife's day off from work, and I wasn't aware of that until after I made it home. I was all in the mode to pay a visit to the Rebel Yell, but upon seeing the car in the driveway I knew I'd have to put a hold on that until a more convenient time. She was all bubbly, sort of, having spent her day making cinnamon rolls, and I wish I could get my jollies as easily as that. Maybe I should learn how to make cinnamon rolls, too. On second thought, maybe not. And I think that does me for this time around. I told you it probably wouldn't be much, and for once I guess I was right until the next time comes around, and I'm gone.

(7:27PM) I guess this must be the next time, because I find myself back here again. For me it's late on a Tuesday night, but for many the night is still young. I say late because I'll probably hitting the rack in about another hour. I can't say much about the day except that it was there. Work was work, and I called it a day at three. Then while I sat in the car in the parking lot munching on some corn nuts the thought hit me to go check out a liquor store, and knowing that the wife was working late, I figured, why not? Knowing that the Rebel was running low, and I was curious about what I might find, I shifted the hand me down wheels into gear and headed south.

I had been told that this particular store had a lot more to choose from versus my regular place of preference, but upon arriving I didn't see a lot of difference. The one difference that jumped out at me was the discovery that the prices hadn't jumped by two bucks and more as at the other place. I didn't know what that was all about, but I didn't care much as I began to check out what I could get for less than fifteen bucks. I finally settled on a bottle of Ezra Brooks, for the low price of only eleven dollars and change. But it was ninety proof. I know, I had told someone earlier in the day that I was going to break out the plastic on a bottle of Fighting Cock, but they didn't have that on the shelf. Besides, the wife might give me a dirty look if a brought home a bottle of that stuff. The name alone would get me a dirty look, but nothing more.

I had to check out the rest of what they had to offer, but knowing that I needed to make my exit, I went ahead and made my purchase. While whipping out the plastic I wondered what the guy behind the counter must think when somebody buys a bottle of the cheap stuff, and thoughts of my younger days briefly came and went, thoughts of Mad Dog 20-20 and Boone's Farm came to mind, and I remembered how some of the guys I was stationed with in Panama tried to sober up a very tanked Willie Sepulveda after they had gotten him trashed on some Mad Dog. I remember seeing them take him in the shower and turning on the cold water, but he had a flight to make back to wherever he was going to call home, and he wasn't going to make it in that condition. I didn't know whether that was Puerto Rico or New York, but it wasn't anywhere in Panama.

I made a stop by Wally World for a couple of bottles of Pepsi. I'm thinking of putting on the brakes with the shots, and going with something a little more politically correct where the wife is concerned. Once she finds out about the Ezra Brooks, the addtion of the Pepsi might not rub her the wrong way quite as bad, and I'm still wondering what it takes to rub her the right way. Methinks I shall never fully know. And now I am sitting here listening to tunes on Pandora, and getting mellow with it. I know that in writing what I have thusfar there is no real indication of the kind of day it was, but dropping lines hasn't been the easiest thing as of late, and it's amazing I suppose, how a few tunes and a few shots can loosen up the mind, and now I think I'm gone for the day, and probably for the night.

(8:14PM) Okay, so maybe I was wrong. It's happened before. Earlier today I was thinking about the last time the little woman approached me about my newfound attraction to drinking shots. Several times now she's asked me, "What does that do for you?" I've said different things such as, "I like it", or "It relaxes me", and it does. But today another thought crossed my mind, and that was, what does feeling lonely, unloved, and undesired do for me? Perhaps that's the next question I need to ask in response when I get confronted by a repeat of a repeat the next time around, and I know that it will come again soon enough. I've thought to myself that I could talk about it in those terms, but I already know what will get sent back in my direction, and it will be as if I hadn't said anything at all. It will all be about her also having her own set of feelings, and the way I've felt for the past six and a half years won't even come into the picture.

I know that in any relationship there are two sides of the equation. No one can continue as if all is hunky dory without noticing at some point that it really isn't, and two and a half years of sexlessness should be enough to tell someone that things aren't exactly on the side of normal. I've thought that when she confronts me again I may have to say that it's better than getting sneaky behind her back, for I've come to realize that if you drink enough of this stuff you don't really care after awhile, and perhaps it becomes a matter of the lesser of two evils, and I've just begun to realize that this has gotten on the order of interminable. Oh well, such is life, but there's an ending to everything at some point, and for this entry I think this is defintely it, and I'm gone now for sure.