It's a well-known fact among my closest associates: I can't smoke pot anymore. (Something to do with my blood pressure.) Since I quit cigarettes six years ago, won't mess with those antidepressants you see advertised that cause horrible things even worse than depression, am immune to the effects of caffeine and find stuffing myself with high-calorie treats nauseating, I am without buffers. This is not a good situation. Admit it: Life is tough without some sort of buffer.Take, for example, that young Brooklyn couple on the way to the hospital, full of excitement with the promise of a new baby arriving in minutes, and they're killed in a car crash. The driver responsible lives, flees, and remains at large. I'm still crying over that one, and I didn't even know them.
Like Dr. Scott Peck wrote, "Life is difficult," and there's nothing like a good Chianti to brighten things up. (That last part is mine.) So I am now going with a glass of wine mid-day. After all, they drink at lunch in Italy, and nobody looks askance. Let's see if that helps.
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