Drink and cry

Every now and then WM and I travel separately. Sometimes he goes to visit his family solo. Sometimes I travel for work. It’s how it goes and while we’re never apart for long, sometimes we are apart.

It's a 7 year old picture but it fits.

It’s a 7 year old picture but it fits.

I don’t know what he does when I’m not here. From his tellings he pretty much does the same thing he does when I AM here. Me? I go into some sort of adolescent bacchanal state. I stock up on hummus, pita bread, wine, cheese, genoa salami, chocolate cake, wine, chips, wine, etc. I don’t wear pants. I bellow showtunes. And one night I do what I call the Drink and Cry.

It is what it says. I drink wine and make myself cry. I cry over the injustices of the world and our country. Massacres and racism and stupid shit. There is a bunch of self-pity cry in there too because I am a human bean and can’t help it. Dead friends, dead family, dead pets, dead dreams. But sometimes I need to grease the wheels a bit to get a good cry going.

Here, readers, is my Drink and Cry list.

Some light reading:

Back to videos… From Les Miz 10th anniversary…

  • I Dreamed a Dream (“He slept a summer by my side / He filled my days with endless wonder / He took my childhood in his stride / But he was gone when autumn came”) Sing it, sister.
  • Fantine’s Death (“Look, monsieur! Where all the children play!”)

Truth be told, I rarely make it past UP!

Once I’m done, I feel so much lighter and better. I’m a weeper and most of the time I hold it in because it’s just not acceptable to cry whenever I feel like it. It’s messy too. So it’s nice to have a time when I can let loose and only have to apologize to the dogs afterward.

(It took me four months to be able to finish this post, by the way!)

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