I have a confession to make. That temperance wagon I was riding earlier this month has bucked me. I have had two occasions where I have succumbed to the drink. Yes, I am a recidivist, but at least I am a resipiscent recidivist (and that goes a long way towards a lifetime of happiness.) I defy anyone to willingly, and of their own free will, engage in the boredom I endured the first two weeks of this year.
I will not drink tomorrow, or the day after but I am drinking now (even as I type this.) Four whiskey drinks and a bottle of wine have returned my dull bioscape into a carnival of delights.