Why do I insist that my tolerance for wine and other elixirs is greater than it truly is? I’m nursing a bit of a hangover this morning after indulging in 1.5 bottles of wine last evening. I am not to the point of caressing the toilet, but my head feels as though a very tiny troop of bottom-heavy lawn gnomes are river-dancing to death metal in my skull. It’ll pass as hydration squeezes though my tightened gray matter, but boy howdy- those decorative dancers are doing a number on me!
So wine flowed as freely as the conversations last evening and a full set of topics discussed. I am fortunate to have a good friend out of the divorce. It’s just a shame we hurt each other for so many years trying to force it to be more than that… So it goes. We are truly happy for each other and the unusual circumstances in this friendly departure from marriage is refreshingly odd. Many friends I’ve spoken to are only now beginning to understand that we’re ok and that divorce doesn’t have to be ugly and full of spiteful dislike. It can be a very positive release for two people. That’s what it has been for this situation. Divorce was the most positive thing to happen in the marriage for years. It’s nice we’re both grown up, friendly and sensible enough to be able to communicate about it.
I am a truly fortunate girl.