As I write this, I have completed nearly a week of sobriety.
I've signed up for Dry July -- being sponsored to give up alcohol for the month. A grown-up's 40 Hour Famine.
The first day was particularly cruel -- not only did I receive two bottles of wine from some lovely interviewees, I discovered my favourite cider was on special at Pak 'n Save. The Universe was not going to make this easy.
I never used to be a drinker. As a teenager, I wasn't invited to those elusive parties, involving beer and boys. University brought some wild nights on the schnapps -- but I began a religious phase at 19, which put the kibbosh on that.
In my early 20s, I was determined to kick my "good girl" image.
So I drank -- a lot. Standouts include falling asleep on a public toilet after over-indulging at a farewell do and, at one house party, demolishing a cocktail of cheap wine, vodka, gin and bourbon because I felt like "getting blotto".
Today, my body cannot handle such escapades.
But, in recent months, I've noticed my alcohol consumption creeping upwards, to include at least three standard drinks a night.
If I'm honest, that's worried me.
Because I've found I've come to rely on the grog to help me unwind.
Lately, after a stressful day, every inch of me has been screaming for a cider. Strawberry and lime, mixed berry, feijoa -- I grab a bottle, switch on YouTube and feel the tension drain away.
Sometimes, I've caught myself sitting at my desk, craving alcohol -- and feeling sorely disappointed when I didn't have the funds for a nice Rekorderlig.
So, I thought I'd challenge myself.
No booze for a month: to see how I get on without that pink, sparkly crutch.
And it has been hard. Alcohol is everywhere.
It's cheap from the supermarket, it's available at the cinema and after-work functions, we base our social gatherings around it, and we buy each other champers at any opportunity.
It's on TV, in the paper, on the back of busses, sponsoring sports tournaments.
They tell us alcohol is the right tool to break down barriers, to feel comfortable in ourselves, to chill out and leave the office behind.
And we buy that. At least, I did.
So, this month, I'm finding other ways to relax. Do some knitting, bake, meditate, curl up with a book? Get some more painting done? Eat heaps of Jelly Tip chocolate? I'm open to suggestions.
To others of you doing Dry July, good luck.
May our livers and wallets thank us.