I remember when I lived in Woodside, I used to say I was strategically located halfway between the Woodside Tavern and detox. That way, if I ever wanted my old life back all I had to do was get drunk at the tavern, stop at my place, get all my belongings off the front lawn, then head down to detox. As soon as they seen me coming with my alcoholic luggage, a garbage bag and a lamp, they'd lock all the doors and cover the windows.
The words I got from my god-box this morning were But For The Grace of God. I been sober going on twenty-four years. My alcoholism, like a cancer, is in remission. But, I am not cured. All I have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of my spiritual condition. My alcoholism is doing pushups in the parking lot waiting for me to make a bad decision. As long as I remember that, I might be okay.