Mind Vacation

I was talking to my brother the other day, and he mentioned that I bring up alcohol a lot in my blogs.  After we hung up, I turned to Bill and said “Dave thinks I talk about drinking a lot in my blog.  Do you think we drink too much?”

“We probably drink more now than we used to,” he said, “and, probably more than we should, but look at our lives.  We can’t leave the house for much more than an hour at a time since your mom hurt herself.  And even then, we have to go while she’s taking a nap.  You spend most your time taking care of her and all of your time worrying about her, and now you’re waking up in the middle of the night because you keep dreaming that she’s calling you.  Plus, taking any kind of a real vacation ever again is a total fantasy.  So, yes, I guess we drink more than we used to when we had normal lives.”

“Put like that, I’m surprised we manage to stay sober at all,” I replied with a sigh.  “I’m amazed we can limit it to a couple of rum and Cokes a night instead of drinking ourselves into a stupor.”

“Well now, that wouldn’t work, would it, because who’d take care of Mom if you were passed out on the floor?  Besides, as far as I’m concerned, a couple of drinks are like a mind vacation.  We relax for a while, we laugh a little bit and we escape for an hour or so.  It’s as close as we’re going to get to a sandy beach for a long, long time.”

“You’re right,” I said, slapping my thigh for emphasis.  “Let’s break out a bag of Margaritas and take a quick mind trip south of the border!”

“Honey, it’s only 3:00,” he reminded me.

“Okay, than.  At 5:00 it’s all aboard the brain train for an hour vacation while dinner cooks.”

“You’ll go just about anywhere, won’t you?”

“As long as it’s with you, sweetie,” I whispered, planting a wet one on his stubble-covered cheek.



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