I've done it, I've hit Rock Bottom.  I'm sitting here recovering from a bender, an all day drinking binge yesterday.  It all started out innocently enough, the plan being to check and see if I won any money on the Super Bowl boards at my two favorite morning bars.  As usual these days, one drink led to another, and another, and so on.

The coworker that started out the day drinking with me was wise enough to know when enough was enough, and left to go home around noon.  Several things contributed to me staying a "little" longer.  Several old friends I haven't seen since I was married wandered in, we had a good 'ole time catching up on things.  Late in the afternoon, way past the time I should have been home in bed, we all learned that our favorite bartender has cancer.

This bartender has put up with my shit for years, and is the friendliest, sweetest lady on this planet.  It shocked us all when hearing about it, and we sat around crying in our beers for the remainder of the afternoon.  By the time I left, which was around 6 p.m., I was trashed.  Too drunk to drive, too drunk to know any better.  To make matters worse, my mom, who had picked up my daughter from daycare in the afternoon, was going to be showing up at my house with little one at any time.

I vaguely remember my mom giving me a lecture, then backing out of the driveway like a bat out of hell.  I remember little one running up to me and giving me hugs... but that's all I remember!  I only had to watch her for maybe a half hour, ex would show up around 6:30 to take her home.  I woke up at 2:30 this morning fully clothed, I even still had my steel toed work shoes on.

I staggered out of bed, not fully aware of what year, month, or day it was.  All the lights were still on in the house, even the tv, but there was no sign of monster kid, no notes from ex, nothing.  After sitting for a minute, clearing some of the sludge out of my head, I had to assume everything was okay, that the worse thing to come from this was another lecture from ex.  A well deserved lecture I might add.

After convincing myself everything was cool on the home front, I made the dreaded call to work.  I was supposed to be there at 11 p.m., and it's not a good thing to not call if not coming in.  Of course, it's hard to dial the phone when you're in a coma, but the workplace doesn't care about minor things like that.  Anyhow, I called, talked to my boss who it too understanding, and told him I would be in tomorrow (tonight now).

Morale of today's story boys and girls: I am officially on the wagon, no drinking for this guy, at least not until I can get a grip on the sudden changes that have occurred in my life in the last several months.  Once I get the shit sorted out mentally, I'm confidednt that a couple of beers in my favorite bar(s) after work will be just that, a couple.