Thursday, April 12: Are we waiting for some sort of magical sign or something?

I sent the following email to Charlie yesterday afternoon:

Dear honey,
Is it too soon for me to pick up some lovely Harp for my place?

Charlie thought that we should forge ahead, that not enough time had passed yet. The whole thing was feeling fairly arbitrary to me, and so I asked him how on earth we were supposed to know once enough time had finally passed. Are we waiting for some sort of magical sign or something? Charlie suggested we have a conversation about the where's and when's of 're-entry', though of course being a grown adult I could choose to take his recommendation or not. Well, I chose to stick with it simply because he's the one who offered to do it with me when I thought it seemed like the thing to do.

I said all right, then I'm going to get my hair chopped, which I did. One haircut later, I was down four inches and driving home feeling the call of the Harp. I managed to keep my car from driving to the store and instead went home to worry about asbestos and whatever bugs seem to be biting me there. But I tell you, a beautiful Harp sounded lovely yesterday. Then, as I was cleaning out the kitty litter I got to thinking...what's the point of going through life making oneself suffer needlessly? If a wee Harp would taste good, calm my nerves and relieve my stress, why not? I can see not drinking it each and every single day, but come one. My mom usually has a drink or two a day, in general. I think that's normal.

Ten days seems pretty good to me. Do I have something more to prove? I think this may go back to the Buddhist differential between Charlie and me. Now I've actually begun to think that he might have a problem -- Charlie might be addicted to going without.