I relapsed
I'm weak. After nearly four years of almost uninterrupted sobriety, I relapsed this week. I went on a seven-day bender, and it wasn't pretty.
I must admit, I thought I had my addiction whipped. But instead I now realize I just was running away from it. I tried to escape my demons. I moved away, put myself in a situation where I thought I wouldn't have even the hint of temptation, and that was it. I focused my efforts into healthier outlets, and yet I still lapsed.
I started remodeling again.
It all started out so innocent. After meeting a friend for a movie in the South Bay, I stopped by Home Depot to pick up some tools I needed for my bike. I wandered off, and before you know it I'm down in flooring, where I have absolutely no business being in the first place. I'm weak. And I finally broke. Before you know it, I grab a shopping cart and have 7 crates of Pergo loaded up. Like I junkie jumping off the wagon, I went into an orgy of remodeling, spending hundreds of dollars. I don't know how I managed to convince myself of it but I did. Joe, you live in an apartment, you can't be doing this! Yeah, but it's not permanent. It just lies on top of the existing linoleum. It'll even be even with the other carpet. Besides, you hate the carpet in the entryway, as that building they're building next door just tracks tons of dirt onto the white carpet. It never stays clean.
Come on, you know you want it.
And so I check out. I had secretly been planning this nearly since I moved in. I never liked the linoleum in the kitchen and dining room, as it was old and permanently marked up. I had been thinking about getting a new dining room set, but why, when it would just sit on that icky old floor.
I pack up my Saturn, and I even have to put down the back seat to make it all fit. God this feels like old times, the thrill, the release. I race home on 101 and secretly stow it inside. Before you know it, I'm moving furniture, cleaning the surface, and that's when I hit bottom:
I started ripping out carpet.
Now the orgy of destruction really begins, that point where you realize: There's no going back now, baby. You don't get half pregnant.
I start pulling nails out of the concrete floors, pissing off neighbors with noise and hammering. God this carpet is disgusting! Years and years of dirt embedded in the carpet and pad. Man, this feels good to get it out.
I get it all out. Just like old times, my apartment is warm from all the vacuuming out dirt and debris, and stop for a beer. I pause from the shock and awe of devastation. My apartment looks like downtown Baghdad.
But finally, the moment of truth. I can start laying boards down. It seems like it would be pretty easy. But like anything I did, it was my first time doing this, and there's always a learning curve.
The first boards lay down pretty easy. Then trying to get large sections together proves much more difficult. One side would fit in and the other wouldn't. I find little tips and tricks along the way. Luckily the first boards are in the back where people can't see little defects. It starts to get better. But it gets late. I've pissed off my neighbors enough, at least for today.
At this point, I hadn't covered any of the entryway. I have too much detail work to do around the edges and cleaning, stripping pieces of old pad and glue and nails.
The next day I wake up like a bad hangover. I try to focus only on the good. Just look at that brand new flooring. It's a million times better. Then look at the rest. My apartment's in shambles. I do a little bit of work, cleaning and fixing up. But then I have to go to work.
At work I continue on, but after a few hours, I start needing a fix again. I make lists of things I need to do, think about the logistics of this should go here, then I need to do this, I need to pick this up. It consumes me. God I forgot what is this was like. It all looks great in the end, but does it ever end?
I share my plight with some friends and coworkers. Every day I give a report. The kitchen is 50% covered, the living room 40% covered, the entry way 0%. Every day I'd report a little more and a little more.
Thankfully by the time I write this, all areas are 90% covered. All barren areas are now covered, and I have some detail work to do around the edges, but I've come out of my bender. And it looks fabulous. I already have some ideas for area rugs to contrast, and it's my dream come true.
But, God, give me the strength I need to keep this from happening again! :-)
I must admit, I thought I had my addiction whipped. But instead I now realize I just was running away from it. I tried to escape my demons. I moved away, put myself in a situation where I thought I wouldn't have even the hint of temptation, and that was it. I focused my efforts into healthier outlets, and yet I still lapsed.
I started remodeling again.
It all started out so innocent. After meeting a friend for a movie in the South Bay, I stopped by Home Depot to pick up some tools I needed for my bike. I wandered off, and before you know it I'm down in flooring, where I have absolutely no business being in the first place. I'm weak. And I finally broke. Before you know it, I grab a shopping cart and have 7 crates of Pergo loaded up. Like I junkie jumping off the wagon, I went into an orgy of remodeling, spending hundreds of dollars. I don't know how I managed to convince myself of it but I did. Joe, you live in an apartment, you can't be doing this! Yeah, but it's not permanent. It just lies on top of the existing linoleum. It'll even be even with the other carpet. Besides, you hate the carpet in the entryway, as that building they're building next door just tracks tons of dirt onto the white carpet. It never stays clean.
Come on, you know you want it.
And so I check out. I had secretly been planning this nearly since I moved in. I never liked the linoleum in the kitchen and dining room, as it was old and permanently marked up. I had been thinking about getting a new dining room set, but why, when it would just sit on that icky old floor.
I pack up my Saturn, and I even have to put down the back seat to make it all fit. God this feels like old times, the thrill, the release. I race home on 101 and secretly stow it inside. Before you know it, I'm moving furniture, cleaning the surface, and that's when I hit bottom:
I started ripping out carpet.
Now the orgy of destruction really begins, that point where you realize: There's no going back now, baby. You don't get half pregnant.
I start pulling nails out of the concrete floors, pissing off neighbors with noise and hammering. God this carpet is disgusting! Years and years of dirt embedded in the carpet and pad. Man, this feels good to get it out.
I get it all out. Just like old times, my apartment is warm from all the vacuuming out dirt and debris, and stop for a beer. I pause from the shock and awe of devastation. My apartment looks like downtown Baghdad.
But finally, the moment of truth. I can start laying boards down. It seems like it would be pretty easy. But like anything I did, it was my first time doing this, and there's always a learning curve.
The first boards lay down pretty easy. Then trying to get large sections together proves much more difficult. One side would fit in and the other wouldn't. I find little tips and tricks along the way. Luckily the first boards are in the back where people can't see little defects. It starts to get better. But it gets late. I've pissed off my neighbors enough, at least for today.
At this point, I hadn't covered any of the entryway. I have too much detail work to do around the edges and cleaning, stripping pieces of old pad and glue and nails.
The next day I wake up like a bad hangover. I try to focus only on the good. Just look at that brand new flooring. It's a million times better. Then look at the rest. My apartment's in shambles. I do a little bit of work, cleaning and fixing up. But then I have to go to work.
At work I continue on, but after a few hours, I start needing a fix again. I make lists of things I need to do, think about the logistics of this should go here, then I need to do this, I need to pick this up. It consumes me. God I forgot what is this was like. It all looks great in the end, but does it ever end?
I share my plight with some friends and coworkers. Every day I give a report. The kitchen is 50% covered, the living room 40% covered, the entry way 0%. Every day I'd report a little more and a little more.
Thankfully by the time I write this, all areas are 90% covered. All barren areas are now covered, and I have some detail work to do around the edges, but I've come out of my bender. And it looks fabulous. I already have some ideas for area rugs to contrast, and it's my dream come true.
But, God, give me the strength I need to keep this from happening again! :-)
posted by Joe Carlin at 9:58 PM
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