I guess I picked the wrong week to give up smoking.
No, really. I actually, genuinely quit. Haven't had one since 2/5/05 - go me. I was on my way to Happy Hour, and made up my mind that when the current pack ran out, I just wouldn't buy any more. (No, I haven't been smoking other people's cigarettes - I'm a princess with very specific tastes)
Well, as we all know, the universe has a very literal sense of humor - so I managed to lose the entire fucking pack of cigarettes at Happy Hour. Those of you who know me are looking for the Four Horseman right about now, because that just doesn't happen. Except it did. And I kept my word, and just.... didn't buy any more. Ultimately it's a good thing - while I'm still getting the remainder of the pollution out of my lungs, my teeth already feel whiter, and it's amazing how easy it's been.
Except for the anxiety. Oh, the anxiety. I don't know if it's nicotine withdrawal, or facing the cold stark reality of my self-inflicted financial drama, but boy howdy. It's all I can do not to invest my last $40 in a carton of calming smoke.
So while I'm applying to every feasible job opening on Monster.com, I'll just keep repeating to myself: The urge to smoke will pass whether I smoke or not. And hope it works. SOON!
For the love of heaven, please tell me you don't still have cravings. I still smoke in my dreams.
PS: Looks like your recent troll has got you more than covered on the unnecessary abuse factor - I like your writing too much to shit on your blog. But thanks. :D
-- by
Space Kitty, at
2/15/2005 4:02 PM