This is interesting and well-timed (for me) as I published that best-worst job piece. At that time, my stress level was at maximum plus 10%. When I arrived home after a brutal day and a brutal commute, I'd have G&T and sit for a bit before starting supper or whatever. My missus was like that 50's housewife, happy to have me home and knowing I've been browbeat all day long. She'd have a fresh one waiting in her hand at the door with a kiss. It was always just one.

Then one with dinner

Then one more after

Then a night cap

She never said anything about it. She let me go. Then one weekend, when chores needing to be done, she asked me if I would take the recyclables out from the basement. We had one of those huge rubber bins for bottles and cans. I went down and it was overflowing with Blue Tanqueray Gin Bottles. I was stunned.

I went upstairs and told her I need to stop drinking before I become an alcoholic, and I felt I was very close.

Now, if I have 3 drinks a month, that's above average.

Glad you hit the brakes, as well.