It's my Friday

I work weekends, so today is my Friday. Thank heaven! I'm tired. More tired than usual this weekend.

Apparently, it shows, because my sponsor gave me a seven day writing assignment. Gratitude lists, every day, 10 things, no repeats, and I can't be grateful that the sun is shining in Alaska because that doesn't directly affect me.

I'm sure I can find 70 things to he grateful for, right? This is why I have a sponsor, yo. I can't so this shit alone.

I celebrated 8 years in recovery last night at my home group. I have to be honest--I never thought I'd still be clean eight years after I picked up my last white key tag. Of course, I couldn't think that far ahead back then.

It's been a lovely journey thus far, in spite of some of the barren wastelands I have caused myself to have to travel through. But y'all probably don't want to read about barren wastelands; y'all want to hear about celebrations.

I wore sparkly shoes. We busted a pinata. There were glow stick bracelet party favors. It was fun, yo.

Now, I'm off to get ready for work. Because it's my Friday. Imma sleep a lot tomorrow, which is really the best way to handle everybody else's Monday, don't you think?