How is it that parents can read your mind, even when you’re on the other end of the phone? I phone my mother up this evening to talk about a couple of things, and within two minutes, she’s asking what it is I’m not telling her. What I’m not telling her is that earlier today, I was hit by a car. Nothing serious – a few wee scrapes and an adrenaline rush. No more. The driver was more frightened than I was, but then, I’ve done this sort of thing before.

But I’m not telling Mum because I didn’t want to worry her. Yet somehow, she can tell that I’m not telling her something, even when the conversation goes nowhere near cars, blunt trauma or tarmac. So, in the end, I fess up, thinking “oh god, now I’m just worrying her needlessly.”

And she laughs. Lots.

I woke up this morning and thought “Oh shit. This is going to be bad.” Because I didn’t have a hangover.

I was right. It was bad. It’s never good to have drunk so much that you can wake up after seven hours kip and still be drunk. Thankfully, by the time that the hangover arrived, I had managed to drink a load of water, and take a couple of asprin. That blunted the worst of it.

But I’ve been pondering giving up drinking for a while now. Seems like it might be a good idea. Going out would be less expensive, and I’d be less like to turn into a slurring eejit, barring some kind of concusion.

On the other hand, it means no more Jack and Ice, no more Bushmills, no more of my alcoholic smoothies, and so on. That would be bad. So I’ll just try and cut down. Mind you, I went out yesterday not intending to drink very much, and look what happened…

I spent today cleaning the bathroom. I’m high on bleach fumes. God knows, it needed cleaning – I’d been waiting for Huw to do his turn at cleaning it, but since he’s in the states for another week, it obviously wasn’t going to happen, and if we’re going to find a new flatmate, to replace him when he fucks off to the states, it needed doing.

Between that and working on more things for 9A, it’s been a busy day. And I’ve been looking forward to this bit all day. Candlelight again (I find it very relaxing. Sue me.) and tonight it’s Jack Daniels over ice, and butterscotch angel delight. And the Ramones. I’m trying to remember the last time I felt this good about life, and I’m forced to answer “February”.

Which really isn’t a good sign – I appear to have managed to get used to a state of constant tension. Well, perhaps “get used to” is a bit strong, since I know I’ve been a bit, um, erratic over the last couple of months, especially the last few weeks.

I’m not stupid enough to think that this magically means I’m back to my old self, but given that I hadn’t noticed how stressed I was (which sounds stupid now I say it – I knew I was busy at work and at home, but I really hadn’t noticed how unbelievably tense I was/am, which is pretty typical of me) I am at least optimistic that I can actually at least start to do something about it and stop behaving like quite so much of an idiot.

God, I needed this. The candles are lit, Lou Reed is on the Stereo, my glass contains a very fine single malt (Bushmills 16-year-old if anyone feels like buying me some more) and I have the house to myself. I’ve spent most of the evening either out walking, or just lying stretched out on my bed, staring at the ceiling and letting the tension drain away. And by god, it feels so very, very good. I should have more Friday nights like this. And the best bit?

I get to do it again tomorrow.

What have you done to make yourself feel good lately?