These Monday mornings look the same to a lot of people. That's what it seems to be like, anyway, from this coffee shop. Not that I'm' drinking coffee, just that I'm watching a lot of human beings walk by with the same set Monday morning type look to their faces. It is a mix between stress, consternation, and habit. There's minor stress (or major, depending) because many of the people are on their way to a locale that doesn't make inherent sense for them and that they didn't exactly choose to go to.
(As an aside, I'm frustrated because the version of microsoft word I have (the older version) just somehow simultaneously opened with the newer trial version causing a type of slow motion electronic crash.)
Some of these people are a little stoned on booze. Not many of them, but not all of them look like we expect. They wear high heels. And they assert themselves. And, they might feel so sensitive about the transition to Monday morning activities that they decide to make a little compromise to themselves. Something along the lines of letting the juices of the weekend flow into the morning coffee. Something that placates unease and relaxes. A glimpse of a moment, wherein it goes down and makes the morning possible. That's what we're talking about, where: drinking makes living possible. That's because, I think, a lot of anxiety embeds itself in the brain of a heavy drinker. And, given the short term nastiness of dealing with anxiety as compared to the relative ease of pouring some vodka down your throat, at times, the vodka wins out. With increasingly frequency, it wins out.
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