Weeeeell. As promised, I quit smoking on Saturday 16th October, 2010. Welcome to the aftermath. Enter at your own risk. I hold no liability for any harm, blah, blah, blah.
Stab stab stab,
7am- Wake up. First thought is of a ciggerette. Which is freaking ridiculous, because usually my first thought is something like “Ugh? Children? Fark”. Must wrangle small child to swimming lessons. Avoiding cups of tea or coffee.
10am- Return from swimming lessons. Shaking. Would kill for a cigarette. Just had one of the worst phone calls of my entire life. My mum was in tears. I want a cigarette. Stupid.
Managed to lose my parking card at swimming and had to get one of the swim chicks to beep us out, after spending fifteen minutes tearing car apart and reminding myself this is not worth crying over.
1pm- Children sleeping. Have I mentioned I want a freaking cigarette…? Maybe, once or twice. Remember, when we first discussed this, and I was all pumped and ready to read the book and use the little mp4 player and get all zen like Lucy? Do you think I’ve done any of that? No, of course not. I have not read the book, I have not listened to the hypno-thingy. Why? Because I am an idiot. Read the freaking book, Lori.
1:30pm- Whilst unstacking dishwasher, I come across a dirty chopping board that the man has stacked in with the clean dishes. Judging by the crumbs, he’s evidently used it to make toast on. What a f*cking moron. How many f*cking time have I TOLD HIM NOT TO F*CKING DO THAT?? HOW F*CKING DIFFICULT IS IT TO CHECK IF THE DISHES ARE CLEAN?? AND WHY THE F*CK NOT JUST USE A PLATE LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE???????
3pm- Children feral. If I hear the word “Mum” one more time today I am going to lose my shit. Praise the Lord for babysitters and the fact that the Man and I are going out, kidlet-free, tonight.
11pm-Return home from night out. No alcohol drunk. No cigarettes smoked. I am ready to punch someone in the head. Walking around tonight I nearly kicked a few people. Move the f*ck out of my way, why are you walking so slowly???
Midnight- Man and I retire to bed. I don’t remember the last time I had trouble sleeping, but tonight I am laying awake. Rubbing my feet on the bed, chewing on my lip. When I finally fall asleep I have Technicolor vivid dreams that I don’t remember when I small children drag me from my slumber. Except for one with the sharks.
1am- Chop awake.
1:30am- Bump awake.
2am- Bump awake.
4am- Both kidlets awake.
5am- I’m awake. Vomit. Fall back into bed and dream about bright pink sharks swiming in a fish tank while people watch them and eat sushi. (Bizarreo, yes? Yes. And no, despite the fact that I vomited between the hours of 4am and midday; and I’m dreaming about technicolor sharks and sushi, I’m not pregnant. Thanks for asking. I’m fairly sure it was the effects of chronic nicotine withdrawal.)
6:30am- Kidlets up and bouncing off walls, awake for the day. Dear Lord I am so tired I want to cry. I hate the world. I want my mummy. Drag self downstairs, set up breakfast for kidlets, resist urge to sneak out for cigarette by slamming the lock closed on the back door, fall into coma on the lounge.
7am- Woken by the Chop. “Mum? Mum? Mum? TV’s broken.” Ugh. Children. Fark. What? On closer inspection, small child is correct. The TV is broken. The TV is broken. Oh my f*cking God, the TV is broken.
7:10am- TV still broken. Make coffee. Pinch the Man’s fags. Light, inhale, cough, choke, splutter, be dizzy, feel sick. And repeat. Oh holy mother of Lord I am having a cigarette praise the heavens I do not give a damn the TV is broken I am so tired I could drop my stepdad has cancer and I am having a dang cigarette. And it’s quite possibly the best one I’ve ever had. So ner.
*Ahem* *cough* *crickets chirping*.
Well. There you go. Epic quit smoking fail. I suck hard core. You’re all very disappointed in me, I should be very ashamed and embarrassed (and I am) and I am quite probably going to hell with all the other dirty smokers, the puppy killers and people who vote for Sarah Palin. That’s fine. Sarah, the dead puppies and I will all be fagging on and smelling like ashtrays and at least we will be warm.
Now, in the words of Cate, who I am directly ripping and I don’t give a damn because at least I’m linking back to her-
F*ck off. This is the end of the post.
* Oh my. Upon reading this back and bleeping all the swear words, I realise I do sound quite aggressive. Please be assured that now that I have inhaled a positively disgusting amount of nicotine and carcinogens, I feel much better. And please don’t f*ck off. I’ve grown quite attached to you lot.