It wasn't just pay day for me. It was every day that he worked. I always knew that work day meant drink day. He would crack open the first beer as soon as he hit the car and hit the bar as soon as the car got him there. If he worked 6 days a week, and that was most of the time, he drank 6 days a week. The only day he didn't drink was an off day and that was because I wouldn't allow alcohol in the house. I dreaded the afternoons. I would start worrying the minute I thought he was done work. That would last for the afternoon while I was at work. Then I dreaded going home because I knew by then he would be smashed or pretty well smashed. Then I dreaded dinner because I never knew if he was a happy drunk that day, a mad drunk that day or a sad drunk that day. Shortly after dinner was when relief finally came because I knew he would be headed for bed because he was really "tired".
I do not miss those days at all. Why oh why didn't I realize what turmoil I was putting myself through and how sad my life had become. Living with dread each and every day is not living at all.