What's my problem?

Seriously, what's my freaking problem?

Whatever it is, it's still there, and I can't quite put my finger on it. I'm annoyed/irritated/what-have-you, but by what I can't pinpoint...

The drinking-as-solution habit is still on the fringes of my brain. This morning, as I was making the bed, I caught what I'd believed to be a bottle of red with a white label (a fancy one I'd enjoyed in the past) standing on the floor next to my husband's side of the bed (because, why not, right?). It took just another instant to see it was a water bottle, but in that millisecond that my mind had played that trick, I'd actually thought: 'mmm, that will be good later'. Then I saw it was a water bottle, then I'd thought to myself: 'you don't drink. you couldn't drink that even if it was a bottle of wine that your husband just happened to leave on the floor of the bedroom.'

It seems in big social situations (the fancy wedding we'd attended on Friday, the Girlfriend's Weekend I'd just returned from...all of which had an assortment of enticing alcoholic beverages)...drinking isn't a problem. First of all, no one seems to notice and, if they do, no one either forces me or is concerned about doing it in front of me (as I've requested by the way). So, those big situations are really not a big deal.

Instead, it's a hundred tiny moments in my 'real life' which want to send me over the edge and fill that glass with wine. And, that's pretty disturbing to me. Here's why:
My life is good.
I want for nothing.
I have a loving, fairly healthy family (immediate and extended).
I have a house in a nice neighborhood in a lovely town with good schools.
There is no real hardship.
My problem seems to be I am a woman who has no problems but can't handle her shit.
Dang. That is bad.