The Good Ship Temperance

Today, I find myself in an unfortunate situation. There's no easy way to say it, so I'll just say it.

I must refrain from drinking for almost a month.

Of course, I do this under the utmost duress.

Unfortunately, I seem to have some sort of stomach bug. According to the doctor, this bug is powerful enough that it can only be destroyed with almost a month's worth of medication. As a result, drinking is forbidden until the medication has completed its war against the bug.

(By the way, I'm fine. It's no big deal).

I should be good and ready to go by the time the Cornell-BU hockey game at Madison Square Garden rolls along, which is a great relief.

I still find myself, however, staring at what might be the longest three weeks of my life. Although periods of LOCKDOWN have exceeded this time period, on those occasions I could still mollify myself with the occasional and much needed drink after long study sessions or the finals themselves.

So why would I undergo this trial? Why wander out into the wilderness unarmed?

Simply put, my stomach is perhaps the most important part of my body. Those who have seen me eat and drink know I do it enthusiastically, indiscriminately, in abundance, and with no short measure of abandon. Often, people will even take pictures of me while I engage in some self-appointed culinary challenge. It's that entertaining.

I would say at least 90 percent of my happiness derives from my stomach. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that whatever is wrong with my stomach gets fixed quickly, so that I may resume my normal activities.

It will certainly be an interesting three-and-a-half weeks. In fact, I'm kind of excited. I have never been a teetotaler. I have never been acquainted with such temperance. This, in a way, is my own personal prohibition -- an 18th Amendment that applies only to me. Let's see where this takes me.

I feel like an explorer, standing at the prow of a newly-departed ship that sails for oceans unknown.

Pray for me.