The Weekend That Was

Well, I meant to post daily, but already that’s not happening.

Friday started out like a good day, and I started writing a post about how sometimes things don’t work out as planned; they work out better.  

I was supposed to go round to a friend’s for lunch at noon, but I woke up later than planned (hit the snooze button a couple of times) and realized I could probably manage some writing and then a walk over to her flat but not also the trip to the gym I’d been planning/putting off. (One of the things I never missed about London is how long it takes to do most things – you can only fit a couple of things in a day once you include travel time.) But then she rang saying she was already running late, and could we meet at the Whole Foods instead? As the gym was about two minutes away, it worked out perfectly.

Spent part of the afternoon with her, then walked home from Shepherds Bush, with about a three-hour detour at the O2 store trying to sort out my mobile (don’t even ask.) And then on to a dinner party in Stockwell, where, well, apparently it bothered me more than I was willing to admit that I’m not able to drink for the next 14 weeks. I didn’t realize until Friday afternoon that Friday night would be my last drinks – I thought I’d have the weekend – but then S. told me they test you for drugs and alcohol on the first day, and that you need three days clean beforehand for the test to appear clean. (If you fail the test you can’t come back until the next week.) They actually hadn’t told me any of this – they’re somewhat disorganized – but S. and I agreed that if I were to turn up and say they hadn’t told me, they probably wouldn’t believe me, because frankly, it would be quite the addict thing to say. S. says it’s possible maybe the rules have changed, but it didn’t seem worth it to chance it. Anyway, after the shame/hangover I woke up with on Saturday morning, I was almost grateful at the thought that that wouldn’t happen again for the next 14 weeks. (Is it wrong that every time I type S. all I can think of is Blair on Gossip Girl?)

Saturday was lunch in Wimbledon – somewhere I haven’t been since the BN2 days – with a friend from college, and it was great to catch up. Then I managed to get myself to the gym (briefly – only 20 minutes) and then on to dinner with H., who has not been particularly supportive of the whole non-drinking thing. (Though of course I hadn’t realized until Friday that there wouldn’t be a last hurrah.) She also seemed horrified – that’s really the only description I can think of – when I told her I probably wouldn’t lose any weight these 14 weeks. (Both she and another friend of mine think just giving up drinking would make them lose weight, but I’m not so sure that will work for me. Certainly does make dinner bills cheaper, though…)

Today was a quiet one – I just went to an OA meeting and to the gym, and have been sitting around enjoying one last day of doing not much before I dive back into work tomorrow, plus the start of my assessment for the program I’m doing and a meeting with the nutritionist. (First official day of treatment is Tuesday.) Felt like I should have been out doing something in the glorious sunshine, but everywhere I looked I saw food and wine. I always thought this would be hard but I think I was sort of wishing it was one of those things that turns out to be easier than I thought.