It’s been a rough week.  Since I’ve been detoxing, I’ve been getting worse before getting better.  I was awful last night and broke down and had a glass of wine with dinner over at Sara’s apartment.  I can’t describe how nice it felt to drink again.  I know that sounds awful, but I can’t really explain how shitty this week has been.

Last night I had a dream that we were stuck in a haunted house.  By “we” I don’t even mean the usual crew, I mean a smattering of random people from the past and present.  Peri spent the evening in a food fight, throwing hamburger buns at a ghost that looked like Homer Simpson while he threw them back.  Denetra, a friend from middle school who I haven’t thought of in ages, jumped up and down on a rope bridge while a flirtatious ghost engaged in mindless prattle with her while I sat cross-legged, bouncing with the bridge.  I spent my time wandering from room to room, running into the saddest ghosts, trying to find a drink.

I’ve been feeling extra distressed and deranged because I haven’t been drinking, like somehow just living in Ann Arbor sober is harder than it is otherwise.  I’ve been getting all kinds of classic signs of detox so it really isn’t any surprise to me, I guess.

On that note, I’ve been storing up my brain power for lying in bed reading Richard Rorty.  I have no energy to really compose anything here.  I keep trying, but I keep failing.