Sadly, I can relate all too well to much, too much, of this article in the Guardian UK about writers who have attempted to quit drinking for the month of January. For example:
During the day it's not so bad – except that there's nothing to look forward to, of course. But the evenings I'm finding hard. They go on and on and on. Who knew that evenings were quite such enormous, terrifying voids that need to be filled somehow?Yes, I know exactly how he feels having let an alcohol in the evening habit grow imperceptibly over the course of many years. Interesting though, how these Brits admit it, even wallow in it, whereas we Americans prefer denial and/or self-flagellation.
