I'm battening down for winter. And laying a small hardwood floor in my little office. The old one had been pretty scarred from a 5 year occupation by my daughter's blind coon hound, who had claws like hardened steel.
On the drunk front: I'm moving into day 17 of clean living. Experience cautions me not to feel cocky. I'm thinking more clearly, reading more, and come out of a night's sleep feeling somewhat restored instead of staggering out of a subconscious whose landscape could often resemble a foggy, cratered muddy trench-war battlefield. So: life is good at the moment.