The Battery Experiment

I thought I’d put myself through a little experiment this week. I decided not to have a single beer. Aside from the obvious health benefits—maybe I’d lose a few inches—it would also save me a little money, and I was up for a challenge.

Where I work, an evening beer has become part of my routine. It’s how I usually wind down after the day. So I thought, why not find another way? I liked that it was entirely my own idea. No doctor had suggested it. No one had challenged me to do it. I simply wanted to see what would happen.

To make things even more interesting, I still had seven beers sitting in the refrigerator. Every time I opened the door, they’d be staring back at me, always within arm’s reach. Temptation wasn’t going anywhere.

Saturday was so wonderfully and gloomy. I’d had a long, exhausting week, so I slept as late as I possibly could, which turned out to be ten o’clock. I woke up feeling refreshed—the best I’d felt all week.

Seeing those gray skies outside only elevated my mood. Before doing anything else, I pulled the scale out from under the bathroom sink. If I was going to spend a week without beer, I wanted a baseline to compare against when it was over.

After that, I wandered into the kitchen and smiled as I looked out the window at the neighborhood blanketed beneath thick gray clouds. The weather wasn’t what I’d expected, so I checked my weather app and saw there was actually a chance of rain. Perfect!

After breakfast, I gathered everything I needed and headed into the backyard. If it was going to rain, I wanted to take advantage of it by planting more grass seed. The previous patch had filled in enough that I felt comfortable removing the temporary dog fence and starting on another section. I prepped the ground, spread the seed, watered it in, and crossed my fingers that Mother Nature would do the rest.

My Saturday errand list looked like something generated by a malfunctioning AI: pay the water bill, hunt down a hidden sheep, get my oil reminder reset, visit two grocery stores, fill up the tank, and somehow locate CBD. I figured CBD might help me relax in the evenings while I was avoiding beer. No luck. Banned. Apparently, Texas wasn’t interested in helping me with that plan.

As luck would have it, it started raining shortly after I left the house. Win! I drove around taking care of my errands in the rain, completely satisfied with my decision to plant the grass seed earlier. I was as happy as a dog with a bone.

The only snag came while getting my “Oil Change Required” reminder reset. My already struggling car battery finally gave up and died. The guys at the shop were kind enough to give me a jump while they fiddled with the electronics. I’d been expecting the battery to quit on me sooner or later, so I wasn’t exactly surprised. Still…bummer.

The rest of the errands went off without incident. By the time I got home, Alaya was asleep, which gave Yvette and me the perfect excuse to sneak in an afternoon nap on a gloriously gloomy Saturday.

That evening, after dinner, I started watching a new series called Widow’s Bay. It’s a comedic horror show set in a small New England coastal town. The Mayer was pushing against locals to attract tourism, the town wasn’t what it seems. Something ancient had been awakened. I was hooked almost immediately. The cast is wonderfully eccentric, and Matthew Rhys is fantastic as the mayor. His performance alone is worth watching. So good, in fact, that he has been nominated for an Emmy Award.

Something about small coastal communities and horror has always intrigued me. Perhaps it is my adoration for H.P. Lovecraft, whose stories so often unfolded in places where the sea seemed to conceal things from humanity. Widow’s Bay captures some of that same atmosphere while never taking itself too seriously. It manages to be funny and unsettling at the same time, balancing small-town politics with supernatural mystery surprisingly well. I’m already disappointed there’s only one season available.

I woke up early Sunday to make up for sleeping in the day before. I was looking forward to enjoying my coffee in solitude, only to discover Lola and her current boyfriend occupying my kitchen. Rather than linger, I headed to the store to grab an avocado, some potatoes, and a few seasonings so I could make myself an omelet.

While the potatoes cooked, I finally got the peaceful morning I’d been hoping for. I took my coffee out to the patio and enjoyed the cool air. It was a rare August morning in Texas—comfortable enough to actually sit outside and appreciate it.

By the time I came back inside, everyone was awake except for Teegan. We ate breakfast together while the kids finished their last-minute travel preparations.

You see, the kids were flying out to go take care of their father’s estate. Sad that they must do this. It wouldn’t be in a just and fair world. Alas, that’s what they found themselves having to do. I was worried about what obstacles they might encounter.

Watching them load up the car wasn’t just another goodbye. They weren’t leaving for vacation or college. They were leaving to sort through the life someone else no longer gets to live while also dealing with the cruelty of grandparents who should have been a source of comfort. That’s a burden no kid should have to carry.

I was left alone.

With the place to myself, I decided to clean the bathroom from top to bottom. That project consumed a good chunk of the afternoon. After breathing cleaning chemicals for several hours, I didn’t have much ambition left, so I settled into the quiet house and watched a few more episodes of Widow’s Bay.

It could have easily turned into a night of debauchery with the house all to myself, but instead I abstained from drinking. Those seven beers were practically hollering at me, but I told them no. Not tonight.

The weekend came to an end far sooner than I would have liked.

Monday, I woke up exceptionally early and was out of bed by 6:00 a.m. I was full of enthusiasm and unexpected energy. Was it really the lack of beer? It couldn’t be that simple…could it? Usually, I would fight to get a little more shut-eye, but that morning I was rather happy to be up. By the time my alarm went off, I was already out of the shower and drinking my coffee outside on the patio, which I could do because it was only sixty-seven degrees. That’s a wonderful August morning, though it wouldn’t last.

My energy didn’t waver throughout the day. I felt stronger than I had all the previous week. I suppose all the rest I got over the weekend, combined with the lack of beer, was much needed. I felt like a battery that had finally received a full charge. I was running at 100 percent and pushing along at full throttle.

If only the battery in my car had been faring as well as I was. Alas.

Yvette got home mid-afternoon while I was still slogging through the workday. I was looking forward to seeing Yvette and Alaya after work. The house wouldn’t be quiet anymore. Of course… the house was quiet. Alaya had taken a late nap because she hadn’t napped at all earlier in the day. This was at six o’clock. Yikes.

I went about my business getting dinner together, and we let her sleep much longer than she should have. The baby woke up wired like a feral cat. At ten o’clock she was sprinting from one end of the house to the other. Putting her to bed was indeed a chore from hell.

Let me just say, my sleep was minimal. One thing was certain: I still hadn’t cracked open a beer.

Tuesday, I woke up with noticeably less pep than I had on Monday morning. I suspect it was the combination of very little sleep and overmedicating with a sleep aid in a desperate attempt to get some rest. Oh well. Life goes on. The struggle was, as I like to say, fucking real.

I was busy from the moment I walked into work until the moment I walked out the door.

At one point, I took a short reprieve to check my tuition billing status. It looked like my Employee Tuition Exemption had finally gone through. Success! …or so I thought.

What I wasn’t expecting were all the lingering bullshit fees. Seriously, why am I paying a $150 distance-learning fee when I’m physically on campus? That one fee alone is equal to the cost of my remaining tuition. Then, just to add the cherry on top, there’s the textbook fee. Somehow, I’m paying more in tuition fees than I am in actual tuition. I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Even with those fees, what I’m paying is only a small fraction of what the semester would have cost before the exemption.

…

No wait! I’m still going to bitch. I have to. Fuck these fees. What a fantastic way to stick it to students. I can officially complain about them again because, after seventeen years, I’m a student once more—and apparently I’m getting ramrodded by pointless fees all over again. The outrage! Some traditions never die.

Now all that’s left is to see whether I receive the Staff Senate Scholarship.

On Wednesday, the morning pep was back. I was out of bed by six o’clock, took my shower, and decided to make some potato and egg tacos. I diced up the papas, got them cooking, made myself a cup of coffee, and stepped outside to fire up the Blackstone for the tortillas. While breakfast cooked, I watered all the plants and enjoyed the cool morning air. Before seven o’clock, breakfast was nearly ready, the plants were watered, and I was already feeling like I’d accomplished something.

I even enjoyed listening to my new hawk friends waking up. Early birds. Wait a minute… Am I an early bird? What is happening to me? I am not a morning person.

Maybe the four days without beer was changing me in more ways than I’d expected. I found myself asking questions. Is it possible that I really am a morning person? Where was all this extra energy coming from? Had beer been quietly stealing my mornings all this time?

As I sipped my coffee, one thought kept coming back to me: What’s better—feeling relaxed in the evenings or feeling alive in the mornings? That question lingered with me for the rest of the day.

My momentum slowed a little when it was time to leave for work. That pesky car battery had finally had enough. It wouldn’t start. No surprise there. It had already stranded me once while trying to leave for lunch the day before. Thankfully, I’d borrowed a battery jumper from my mother, figuring it would probably come in handy before this ordeal was over. I was right. The thing worked like a charm, and I was soon on my way to work. I wasn’t about to let my car’s dead battery dampen my own full charge.

I wasted no time diving into the workday, beginning with a task I absolutely despised. The task itself wasn’t difficult. The problem was the person who had requested it. There is something about laziness in the workplace that drives me absolutely batshit crazy. After working on campus long enough to watch countless people come and go in that position, I can honestly say this individual is the worst of the bunch. If there’s a way to pawn off part of their job onto someone else, they’ll find it.

I’m hardly alone in feeling that way. One of my coworkers even had a small blowup over it. Me? I simply grit my teeth, do the work, and moved on.

After work, we headed over to my in-laws’ house to celebrate Yvette’s niece’s twentieth birthday. Roger had made beef enchiladas, crunchy tacos, beans, and some sort of pasta. Then came the cake. It was from Nothing Bundt Cakes, and damn if it wasn’t one of the best desserts I’d had in a long time. Being diabetic, I generally stay away from sweets, but every now and then you just have to treat yourself. It was a gloriously bloated meal, and by the end of the evening I was thoroughly satisfied…and completely exhausted.

One thing I did notice after four days without beer was that my insomnia seemed to be getting a little worse. Falling asleep was becoming more difficult, and staying asleep wasn’t much easier. Oddly enough, it didn’t seem to be affecting my mornings. I was still waking up earlier and with more energy than usual. Maybe I should try going to bed a little later. Would that solve anything? Probably not. I’ve lived with insomnia for most of my life, and at this point it’s less of a problem to solve than a burden to adapt to. Again… The struggle is real.

One day closer to Friday. I woke up early enough to once again share a quiet moment on the patio with my hawk friends. It seems they wake up like clockwork at around 6:45 every morning. Another pleasant August morning in Texas, and I found myself genuinely enjoying the silence. I’ve discovered a little peace in being awake before most of the town gets moving. It’s relaxing.

Yeah… What the hell is going on with me?

I ditched my own vehicle because I didn’t feel like screwing around with the battery every time I needed to start it. With the kids out of town, I could simply borrow one of their cars instead. Here I was, full of energy, while my own vehicle sat lifeless in the driveway.

Once I got to work, I had surprisingly little to do. I knew that wouldn’t last—and it didn’t—so I took advantage of the brief moment of peace. I needed to make a trek across campus, and since the weather was so nice, I decided to take the scenic route. I dusted off my earbuds, put on a mellow album, and cruised across campus feeling just about perfect.

I drove through the football stadium and around the bowl. The view from up there is always worth taking in, and I paused for a moment to watch the team practicing on the field below. Seeing the athletes back in action is one of those unmistakable signs that summer is beginning to wind down.

After work, we took Alaya to the pool. It was hotter than hell, she’d been asking to go, and honestly, it sounded like a pretty good idea to me too. It was nice just standing in the water, trying to escape the Texas heat for a little while. Alaya had an absolute blast. She splashed, laughed, and smiled from ear to ear.

Of course, no trip to the pool would be complete without an order of curly fries. Alaya certainly wasn’t going to let that tradition die. Pool equals curly fries. That’s simply the way the universe works. She devoured them like a ravenous little animal. I can’t blame her—they make some damn good fries.

By the end of the evening, all three of us were running on low batteries and in desperate need of a recharge.

Powered up and ready to go Friday morning, I once again found myself outside listening to my hawk friends while watering the plants, cooking breakfast on the Blackstone, and sipping my coffee. I was relieved the week was finally coming to an end. My Lord, it had started as a relentless beast.

Work was a motherfucker, but at least I was fully charged and ready to tackle it. This time of year is always hectic around here, and we were getting absolutely swamped. As nice as it was to stay busy, I was more than ready to slow things down for a couple of days. If nothing else, the pace of the week had guaranteed that I’d appreciate the weekend even more.

Naturally, I started the morning by doing more work for that wonderfully lazy individual on campus. From the very beginning, I could tell the job had been done incorrectly. But who was I to tell them how to do their own work? Besides, that would have required them to actually be around, and—surprise, surprise—they were nowhere to be found. Maybe this particular screw-up would finally find its way back to their supervisor.

A guy can dream.

So… I made it through an entire week without a single beer. All seven were still sitting in the refrigerator. By Friday, their voices had changed. They were no longer hollering at me every time I opened the door. Instead, they seemed almost resigned, quietly pleading for me to join them one more time. I thought about it. Then I closed the refrigerator door.

Why not make it two weeks? I was already on a roll. The scale barely moved, but I didn’t really care anymore. Besides, I hadn’t felt this energized in a long time. Maybe I’d stumbled onto something.

Earlier in the week, I found myself wondering what was better: feeling relaxed in the evenings or feeling alive in the mornings. A week later, I still don’t know the answer. But I think I’m finally asking the right question.

Happy Friday!!