I don't miss not being able to drive. I don't miss driving when I shouldn't.
I don't miss liquor stores and the people that work there. Lovely people, but the familiarity was, ahem, uncomfortable. I don't miss having to pretend that I didn't know them, despite seeing them every goddamn day.
I don't miss the panicky feeling I got when explaining what I did on the weekend or the night before. I couldn't tell the truth, and I didn't even have it in me to make up a good lie.
I don't miss hangovers.
I don't miss the hassle of getting rid of the evidence from the crime - getting rid of bottles.