Sunday's Are For Rest.

A breakfast of cigarettes and Les Hallas cookbook make me want to cook.

That was Sunday morning.

After a weekend that will cause The Fear.

Lets just say that it ended up with me laying on top of someone that I didn't know. Thank God I was fully clothed, that means nothing happened that I don't remember.

But Sunday's are for rest. I woke up at Ja.'s house. He drove me to the Safeway, and I got food to cook. Eggs, bacon, the rest was at home. I walked home, smoked some more, though about what I was going to make for breakfast (home potatoes and eggs), and what I was going to make for dinner for the kids (ribs in the crock pot with garlic mashed potatoes (made with cream and real butter)). And that is when I decided that I won't have a microwave, I'm going to make real food from now on. I don't work in a restaurant, I don't have to get food out fast. There is no point in being lazy about these things.

So with that decided I finished my walk home and cooked some food, put Hell's Kitchen on the computer and ate, and did some of the unpacking. And just in general calmed down from an overly thrilling Saturday evening.

This is where I think I'm doing better than I could be.

I have the kids coming back tonight. So I don't have the opportunity to go insane again tonight, and to end up in strange places with strange people, sucking down cigars, destroying pints of stout, and cups of rum. I have to come back to reality, to be responsible. And I like that, I like that there has to be some kind of balance in my life.

And because of that I survive, and have a chance to get my thoughts down in a semi-coherent fashion.

There are two minds right now. I can only hope that the better wins in the end.

File under Virtue.