I was expecting to hit the hay tonight feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t get to drink. I can’t remember the last Friday night when I didn’t have several glasses of wine, so staying sober was a big milestone in this Dry January journey. But I DID IT. And it occurred to me, as I was wiping down the kitchen counter and turning off the light to come up to bed – that this is the time of night when the buzz would start wearing off and the guilt would start setting in. “Why did I drink so much? I went so far over my daily points! I feel so fat. I’m going to feel like crap tomorrow. How am I going to get through the day?” Etc etc etc until I would conk out in a haze and likely wake up sometime in the middle of the night dehydrated and soaked with sweat. Gross. I miss wine. But I don’t miss the guilt. Or the gross. So while I did dawdle a bit at my own pity party tonight, I didn’t stay long. Mama’s got better things to do.