If you are lucky enough to know me in person, then you know that I am basically a robot. I do not need the things that normal humans need to survive, like food or sleep, and I generally function very well on caffeine and cup-o-noodles. On an average week, I go out between four and six nights, get around four hours of sleep each night, and I am more than fine the next day. When people describe me, they generally say something along the lines of, "She's cool, she's pretty funny, and she goes out a LOT." I don't go around getting shit-housed all the time, but I generally knock back a couple, shake my groove thang, and then call it a night.
This week, in honor of parent conferences (because I teach 7th grade. . . yes, I am that hardcore), I decided to give myself a break, and only went out on Thursday. I figured that it would be a bad idea to have whiskey breath around grown-ups that actually know what whiskey smells like. This means that I did not drink Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday (skipped mimosas Sunday, skipped Moustache Monday, skipped Rockwell Tuesday, and skipped The Betty on Wednesday). I felt a little bit lame, but figured it's be a good idea to rest up and let "the scene" miss me a little. By Thursday, I was starting to feel like a bit of a shut-in, so I called up one of my favorite semi-alcoholic friends to hit the town.
I had three drinks, stopped to get food on the way home, and was in bed by my "normal" time (a.k.a. 2:30 am). This morning, I felt like total crap. Wtf?! Over my four day break, I somehow managed to lose all tolerance to alcohol and sleep deprivation! Not cool. Thus, I have vowed to never take a break again.
Sobriety and sleep are NOT the new black.