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The Dog Who Attacked Me
Even though I didn’t deserve it.
At the beginning of 2021, the Pandemic was still thriving; vaccines weren’t available yet, and I was losing my mind out of sheer boredom. I always thought Pandemics would be filled with adrenaline rushes, flesh-eating zombies, and all-out war. I honestly thought I’d see a rabid Grandma drop down from the rafters at Gelsons and fistfight a man for the last can of beans. That was not the case. The Pandemic was mind-numbingly dull. If Covid didn’t kill me, the monotony of everyday life would. Something needed to change, or I would be stuck in the endless loop of 2020 forever. Wake up, walk the dog, drink coffee, check Twitter, write, read a book, watch the news, ride my Peloton, shower (sometimes), stare out the window, water my plants, learn Italian, walk the dog, watch TV, pour wine, drink wine, drink more wine, and go to bed.
My therapist suggested getting out of this cycle by trying Dry January since I always feel better when I stop drinking. I thought she would recommend something more exciting, like taking flying lessons or shoplifting; her solution to my boredom was to stop drinking for a month and see what happens. I didn’t see the point of sobering up other than the fact that I was drinking excessively, but I agreed to try. What’s the worst that could happen? The world was already at rock bottom. Travel was still restricted, restaurants…
