Half Windsor

I'm on my eight day without a drink. I know this, because I've just counted my morning pills. Fourty-one more and I'm having a god-damned scotch. For the time being, I'm prowling around my apartment knocking back shot after shot of OJ and watching mad hot ballroom while I wait for it to be 9:00 so my friends will call. I'd love to go to my favorite bar for a... what? A soda water and a cheesecake? Maybe, but it's Friday night and it'll be packed, and there won't be barspace, so the cheesecake's out and I can't very well go there and ask the bartenders, who I like, to pour me a soda while they're packed with paying customers.

And it is now that I remember the coffee shop and the book I've got that I really should be getting through this week before I have to give it back to the library.