George left a six pack of beer in my fridge this morning. I kept expecting him to come back and get it, and it was of my highest hopes he would. Well, those damned beers are just about to drive me crazy! And this is my 700th day of sobriety. Wouldn't that be just my luck? Dad aptly said yesterday that if there was a small pile of dogshit in a huge coliseum, I'd find some way to step in it!