Day 6

Today is day 6 of the great non-smoking campaign of 2005. Now, don't get me wrong. I love smoking. True, it smells nasty, will supposedly make me look old before my time, is expensive, and in general makes me a second-class citizen, since I must remove myself from all polite society in order to get my fix. BUT...I love it. I love lighting up and inhaling that first smoke of the day. I love having my last cigarette before going to bed. And I especially love the post-meal and post-sex cigarettes. Those are truly the best. But I just can't smoke anymore. Last week my blood pressure was so high I was afraid I was going to have a stroke or a heart attack and nobody would know until I just didn't show up to pick up Rugrat from daycare. So I quit, because I'm not quite ready to die yet.

And already, the smoking dreams have started. You know, the ones where you have that one cigarette and it's glorious and then all of the sudden, the crushing weight of guilt when you realize that you've fallen off the wagon YET AGAIN. I guess it's ok, as long as you feel guilty in your dreams. When you stop feeling guilty and just enjoy the smoke in your dreams, then you're actually in danger of falling off the wagon in "real life."

I had actual physical withdrawals this time. That pretty much sucked. The first couple of days I had a horrendous sore throat, and felt like I was getting the flu. Achy body, nausea & gas & all kinds of nasty gastro-intestinal issues, utter exhaustion coupled with complete insomnia, even after taking glorious NyQuil - I slept *maybe* two hours on Sunday night (after my first full day without nicotine). I even had a low-grade fever. It was unpleasant.

And BOY, am I a bitch. I finally left the house yesterday to do a session at The Full Plate in WC. I was allllll about the road rage. I just wanted to kill everyone else on the road. Now that's gotta be real good for my blood pressure. ;-)

M wanted me to go out last night. I just couldn't face leaving the house again. Instead, I curled up on the couch with a bottle of Merlot and some trashy TV. God, I am such a flake. I haven't seen him in about two weeks. That's OK. I'm just...not that into him.