Ivy Roller

There have always been two things that I enjoy, albeit to my own detriment, above all else: mania & drinking.  I find both to be intensely pleasurable, however, in combination the two are a recipe for disaster.  Unfortunately the two tend to accompany one another, yet my past experience has proven I seem to be an “exception to the rule” of sorts in that respect; as my manic episodes take me so high I have no desire to drink.  It is when the mania recedes, like the tide from the coast, and the vast array of debris-that of a tattered and torn life-are revealed, that I want to drink.  In contrast to how low tide ensues a treasure hunt, low mood incites a desperation chase.  And I will chase a manic mood at nearly any cost.

It was actually during my five-month long manic episode while on a trip to New Hampshire, that I discovered Absolut Raspberri vodka.  Returning home on a balmy night in August, my mania rapidly dwindling, I mixed some light lemonade (gotta cut calories somewhere) with the flavored vodka.  It was hands down the Best. Drink. Ever. However, unlike most brands of flavored vodka, Absolut maintains the full 80 proof (40%) alcohol content in their product.  This might explain the trainwreck-looking atmosphere the following morning: partially naked bodies bent over tangled limbs folded at such angles only a contortionist should have been able to achieve.

Always fortunate to be “that girl” that never gets a hangover, instead I woke up energized and rather hypomanic.  I had a sudden and intense desire to go and snatch some sunflowers from the grounds of the private school up the road.  It was just after dawn on Saturday morning and I threw on my jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed some chicken shears from my kitchen drawer and a couple oversized shopping bags to collect my winnings.

The manic (and quite possibly still slightly intoxicated) mind doesn’t think in a manner that would be considered reasonable or logical, and there is an overall lack of judgment most of the time.  Rather than simply walk around the fence to get to the flowers, I felt it necessary in case I needed to make a quick escape, to literally go through the fence.  Here are a couple of photos of the (fortunately) superficial damage the sharp wire of the fence inflicted:

Despite a few very minor scrapes and one small poke, what I was able to cut with a pair of cheap chicken shears and subsequently sneak home undetected with was amazing, considering how thick the stalks on sunflowers are.  Here’s a photo of the yellow sunflowers after I trimmed them and put them into a vase:

Here’s a photo of the red sunflower trimmed and in a vase, it was my favorite, absolutely beautiful:

Needless to say I satisfied my desire for sunflowers that morning, and admittedly I went back at least two or three more times, as recently as early this month.  But I’m pleased to announce that I never again felt compelled to go through the fence to get them.

Filed under: Mania by cindy