A solitary beer is sitting in my refrigerator. I cannot
recall many times where I have been so low on inventory. Over the course of
the week, the stock has been dwindling. The battery of East Coast beers has
been exhausted. On Friday, some of my co-workers wanted to thank me for the
help I provided over the past few weeks and I was more than thankful for their gift. I enjoyed
their honorarium while playing FIFA, which is something I do weekly. I thought I
was being responsible, drinking water after a couple of cans. I had a pretty
restless night’s sleep when my girlfriend came home from her night shift.
After waking up, I was protracted on our sofa when she asked, “are you drinking
again tonight?”
More than likely. Friday night, I fucked up. Instead of
going to the gym and working out as I have been doing, I came straight home
after a grueling week at work. I wanted to have a few drinks and lose myself
on the pixelated pitch of FIFA. I got into it, I turned on a Jocko Willink
podcast and I commanded Unterhacing out of the basement of German soccer. My
FitBit would remind me to take a walk 10 minutes before the hour and I used
that as a reminder to drink water. But often as it goes, I neglect to eat when
I sip suds and play video games. I refer to it as my six-pack supper. Seemingly every time I do that and enjoy a
few “higher octane” drinks, those over 6.5% ABV, a hangover ensues. Honestly,
it’s difficult for me to explain WHY I forgo dinner. I had leftover pasta in
the fridge, I could have easily popped that into the microwave and after the
warm up and eating it, I could have been back gaming in 15 minutes, but I
didn’t. For the past 20 years, I have been mesmerized by FIFA. When I tell
people that I enjoy gaming, people ask me what I play. FIFA. That’s it. I’m
sorry if that seems anti-climactic.
After spending the early afternoon of Saturday writhing in a
self-inflicted pain, my girlfriend and I picked up some Mexican food and after
a carnitas burrito, I was back on the mend. My initial plan was to meet up with
my friend at the Cheerful Bullpen here in Portland to get out of the house and
catch the Buffalo Sabres game. The night previous, I overplayed my hand and my
body was telling me that I could sip some Labatt Blues but that’s it, Champ. I
did just that. I nursed a pounder of Blue per period. The game went to
overtime, but not my appetite for another. I cashed out and took the Max back
home. I needed to use the restroom, so I stopped at Untapped, which I refer to
as Melrose Place because many of the patrons live in the apartment complex
above. Again, I nursed another one and picked up two session IPAs. Same flavor,
less ABV. When I got home, I sat down in front of the TV, turned on my
PlayStation and had one of those session beers as I played a few more games.
“Drinking again tonight,” I ask myself almost rhetorically. I
don’t have any desire to do so today. I feel like I lost a step on Saturday
even though I didn’t have anything major I wanted to do. I wanted to get some
work done in the gym, but that wasn’t going to happen on Saturday with a
hangover. As I get older, I look begrudgingly at time lost. In traffic, I
scream myself hoarse with rage at the time I’m losing. That time could be spent
on things I enjoy, time with friends and loved ones or just time spent not
thinking about my job. Today will be spent prepping for the week that will be.
I’m already anticipating a heavier workload, which means more rest and
recuperation is needed. Thursday, I’ll be seeing Our Lady Peace, a band from my
youth that I have yet to see. The key is to think of things in the long term. Take it easy and don't overplay your hand.
