This is my wine rack. I have moved it to the foyer, behind the front door, and filled it with shoes. We constantly have piles of shoes by the door, and it annoys me greatly. Since at least 50% of the time, they happen to be my own shoes, I figured a organizational solution rather than trying to train everyone to move their shoes all the time was a smart thing.But this isn't about my mad organizational skillz. It's about that wine rack. Which now holds shoes. And not wine.
I love wine. I love Sonoma Chardonnay and Lodi Zinfandel. I love Two Buck Chuck, and I love $50 Nicholson Ranch Rose. I love most all wine. Especially if it's bubbly. That $10 Barefoot Bubbly you can get at the Harris Teeter? Oh my . . .
Here's the deal, though. If you are taking anti-depressants, then alcohol - being a depressant - seems like a bad idea. It even says so on the label of my beloved Zoloft.
More than that though, since I jumped on the wagon, I like myself better. I feel more in control. I feel like a better wife and mama. I don't look forward to 5:00. Every. Single. Day. I don't wonder if Kevin saw me refill my glass when I went back in the kitchen to wash dishes.
I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing to drink everyday. It's just bad for me.
So I don't. At all. I know myself, and I know my limits. Besides, I can guarantee that I drank enough up to this point in my life to cover the next 40 years of it. And did plenty of stupid stuff while doing it.
And now I have a great place to store shoes by the front door. Bonus.