Rowche Rumble

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Published by Matthew Davidson on Sat, 06/04/2013 - 2:40pm

I'm not a fan of Valium; it works as advertised, but a single pill leaves me terribly drowsy for a day or more afterwards, and being paralysed by lethargy is not a great practical improvement over being paralysed by anxiety. I much prefer alcohol, as it has a quicker onset and shorter half-life, and the side effects are arguably no worse.

Nevertheless, in the last stressful week or two I found the usual pounding heart and churning stomach turning into a churning heart and pounding stomach, and concluded I'd administered as much alcohol as was wise (or even tolerably rash), so in desperation I turned to prescribed medication. I had maybe three pills over the course of a week, managed to reduce my alcohol dosage considerably without becoming a gibbering wreck, and surprisingly managed to keep my eyes open without too much difficulty (or coffee).

Then yesterday it hit me. I got up around 9am, fed the cats and myself, then went back to bed until lunchtime. Tried to go for a walk just as a classic Sawtell sudden deluge hit, vowed to press on regardless, but conceded defeat as the streets and my shoes filled with water. Back to bed until teatime, had Oliver Stone entertainingly tell me things I already knew, then - amazingly - a solid night's sleep that didn't end until lunchtime today. I am still almost too exhausted to move, but for the good of my health, I am going to force myself to get to the Sawtell Hotel in time for happy hour. Better the devil you know.