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stumbled home on foot, feeling spiritually filthy, which was only helped by the sight of disgustingly chipper morning people starting their day, to my great annoyance;
bought a pack of cigarettes, even though I don't smoke;
undressed and noticed for the first time that the chocolate bar I ate a week ago, wrapper still on my bedstand, had a love poem printed on the inside, and couldn't bear to read it.
All without having touched anything stronger than apple juice last night.
I am pleased to report that whatever hole giving up alcohol may have left in my life has seamlessly healed over. And, I still need to grow up.