Sitting in my cozy apartment in Manhattan, I'm remembering the absolute panic that would strike when I realized the weather was going to make it hard to just run around the corner for a bottle. Especially since my winter coat had no (zero) buttons on it and was two sizes too small, and that sneakers served as my "snow boots". I also remember reading about people being found frozen in snowdrifts two or three days later -- such as George McGovern's daughter Maureen. Any suggestions for how alcoholics can better cope with the Winter Wonderland?BB
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