Today I went all in, every pill in my arsenal, to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s snot frenzy. Some kind of mud-dust was rolling in through an air conditioner vent. I sit at this desk frequently but never experienced this before. And as with most things allergy, it took me a while to figure out what was happening. It caused snot blasts and coughing.

Moved elsewhere and all seemed fine, though remnants of the snot accumulation lingered. 

I took an Allegra-D, and figured I might as well see what this job is like with a blood pressure and anxiety pill. I only took a half of the panic pill, will probably take another half later.

It is April 1, 2022. Could this be the day I stop drinking? Forever?

An ex had a blog where the tag line was “Today is the day. I know I say that every day but really, today is the day!”

A simple, transparent refrain. I wonder if she still feels that way, now married with 3 kids. Did “the day” finally arrive?

I think of her any time I ask myself if today is the day.

Without booze I could have a second life. A life outside of work, even. I might not fall into pitholes of muddy, ugly love with a woman who seems to have vanished, at least to me. Saturday was a weird ecnounter. I’m just going to leave it at that, and try to forget.

Without booze, though, I might stop masturbating. It seems to follow that the post-booze anxiety encourages multiple sessions a day. When not drinking I am far less inclined.

I’ve been remembering the centerpiece of my masturbation documentary. The phone sex with the woman overseas. Peak quarantine. It sounds so hot I can not even stand to listen to it it drives me absolutely crazy. The way she came, the sounds, and the duration…

Gotta go.