poking and prodding and dumping

I've been quiet lately, writing my own novels in my head, realizing I need to get this shit out sooner than later before I forget another piece of my own life. That is the risk you run when you have as many oxygen free moments in the brain as I have had, for whatever amount of time it was. I wasn't AS GOOD as I wanted to be with the whole not drinking thing. I know, I know--but we are heavily reduced from where we were, though I am sure if I hadn't told Don I had to get my CT scan and another biopsy tomorrow that we might have had some last night to counter the effects of the weekend. We have these ways of justifying things for short times, reasoning that we'll take a break or make it up later. It is kind of crazy how well we do this TOGETHER, but I suppose that is why you marry who you do sometimes. That is one thing I do not regret--though I've said before I don't think regret is very useful in many ways as it suggests a lesson unlearned. But nope--no regret there--my cousin's girlfriend this weekend seemed ...