George came and drank his beers this morning after the nightshift.
"I was about to pour them out!" I told him tersely. "They were driving me crazy."
"Do you think you will ever be able to drink a beer again?" George then asked. "I miss you having a beer with me."
My only reply was that I am an all or nothing fellow. I will drink zero or I will drink twenty. My world has always been black or white.
Even Tylenol is rationed in my corner of the woods. I had a slight headache this morning. I had to call mom to put two Tylenol in a ziplock bag and to leave them on the back porch so she could go back to sleep. Dad's in Atlanta today and I was tempted to drive down to his pharmacy and just get a bottle. Caleb, his fill-in pharmacist, wouldn't mind, but it would never fly in dad's world. He's afraid I will take too many of them and ruin my liver.