. . . even though I thought it was just a great game–everything, that is, except the outcome. I did want the New England Patriots to achieve perfection since that is denied to the rest of us humans.

What I want to write about is the novel experience of stability. Before I got sober my life was tumult on two feet. Without drugs and alcohol, I’ve managed to live with the same guy for fifteen years, have the same job for 8, the same cats for over a decade, and live in the same house for 5 years. And I have no plans, at all, to change any of the above. I guess this is just what happens when one doesn’t drink or use, partners with H.P., goes to meetings, and keeps on Stepping.

When I was drinking and using I wouldn’t have been able to tolerate so much tranquility. I would have had to do something to shake things up, cause a little chaos, do a little damage, inflict a little pain, get that edgy feeling back. Instead of living a life that actually does feel pretty happy, joyous and free, I would have had to go after a life that felt angry, despairing, and self-destructive. Happy, joyous, and free would have seemed way to boring when I was slow-dancing with Bourbon.

Of course, I sometimes miss the edge. I guess I’m lucky in that I get to flirt with it professionally–meeting deadlines definitely kicks the old adrenalin flow up a notch. But I do not miss at all the knowledge that how I live damages other people. Nor do I miss feeling of spiritual isolation that came with my drinking.

It’s a rainy Monday. I’ve got a lot on my plate today. I’ll get done what I can, then, the end of the day, I’ll go gratefully home to the same old man, old cats, old house. And shout hallelujah for them all!

If this is sobriety, bring it on!