This morning I started thinking about all the liquor store clerks I never see anymore, like the African clerks at Barrelhouse Liquors who always called out my name when I walked in the door. It was embarrassing when I was alone -- how to respond? -- but when I was with someone I got a proud kick out of it. There was the somber young Latin man at Casa Pena (open on Sunday). On the way home from work, at a store that specialized in wines, a stern older white man sometimes called me �hon.� Around the corner, a husband-and-wife team bustle around in their bulletproof cubicle. They are renovating right now, and going upscale with the rest of the neighborhood. The first indication was when they painted over the large �Do Not Urinate Here� notice on the side of their building.

Around the corner from my building is a small grocery that sells beer and wine and is run by a fat freckled man who likes to talk. When I was losing weight last year, he was continually astounded by my appearance. Once, he made the other people working at the store gather around to share his amazement. He said, �You remember her -- she used to be big.� They had no idea who I was, but he kept insisting. �You remember -- she was really big!� Finally I had to break in and say, �Dude, I wasn�t that freaking big, OK?� Whenever I came in, he always wanted to talk about dieting. Eventually I started avoiding the place. Which sucked, because it�s within stumbling distance, and on a street where no one looks askance at stumbling women.

I patronized a lot of different liquor stores, partly because I had a variety of needs but also because I was aware that I bought an awful lot of booze. I liked being a �regular� but didn�t want to start depressing people.

Some alcohol and drug treatment programs encourage clients to calculate the amount of money they�ve spent on their habit over the years. I guess it�s supposed to be a sobering exercise. I know I spent a shitload of money on getting fucked up, but it doesn�t bother me. It�s not like I didn�t get my money�s worth. You can�t sell off parts of your past and get cash back.

It is slightly irritating that since I quit partying I�m not rolling in dough. I do live better. I buy myself groceries and clothes when I need them. I�ve paid off most of my credit cards. Most importantly, I pay a woman to clean my apartment twice a month. I realized that no matter how sober I get, I�m never going to get so sober that I want to clean the house.

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