Whenever I tell my “story” at an AA meeting, people cry. Sometimes I wish I had one of those stories that made everyone laugh every fifteen seconds. But no. When I finish everyone looks like they just received very bad news in the middle of a very fun party.
Maybe I’m exaggerating slightly. But, you know, I’m not that serious. And really? My life is pretty cool. For instance, this morning my cashier at Trader Joe’s was a girl with a Thrasher sweatshirt and a nametag that said “Rhiannon.” Now that is fucking cool. And right now I’m listening to Roberta Flack at work. And my dog is laying at my feet and tonight I get to have dinner and watch a movie with my buds the Studly Couple, while it rains and rains outside. And my instructor from the writing class I just finished asked me to keep working with her, and I have a shiny new Subaru and my arms hurt from the new biceps exercise I did yesterday and I’m going to have tamales for lunch. And I have you and your inappropriate sense of humor and my own bathroom at home. See?