The patches make me itchy, the Valium make me tired.
Everything is annoying me right now, especially the quit smoking ads.
Every time one comes on the television, it reminds me that I want a cigarette.
"every cigarette is doing you damage"
I'll do you some fricking damage.
I have been yelling. A lot.
At my children, the cats, cabbage, the dog, the TV, in my sleep...
I slam doors, and I busy myself with cleaning.
Whilst I clean, I announce at least eighteen times a day that I am not a fucking maid/waitress/slave to anyone who will listen.
My sense of smell is returning, and everything stinks.
I'm convinced that my house smells like seven distinctly different types of urine and can't for the life of me find the source of the stench.
I walk around with my nostrils flared sucking in the foul air to the point of hyperventilating, sometimes on my hands and knees sniffing carpet and the underneath of furniture.... then I collapse face down on my bed and scream EVERYTHING STINKS! IM NOT A FUCKING MAID! and I WANT A SMOKE!
I have even taken to venting my frustrations at the leader of our nation on twitter, Do you know I am yet to hear back from my Open letter to Julia Gillard regarding my sons thoughts on gay marriage.
He will be old enough to vote in five years..... Gasp pant gasp.
Dec six I posted The open letter, I don't expect to hear from Julia herself, but seeing as she has time to move Kruds seat, you'd think she would at least pass it onto one of her cronies or something.
Truth be told... I like Julia, I'm just a bitch, a tired cranky bitch that really desperately wants a smoke.
I hate being a bitch to my kids though... And I admit, I am.
I never noticed just how often I went outside for a cigarette, just to avoid the children's fighting and general carry on....
I am the loud cranky fun police, constantly... I tell them in my lucid moments that I am giving up smoking, and it makes me really cranky, ....but I guess they will just have to suck it up or move out, because really, I'm only doing it for them....(and yes, I actually said that)
Their high pitch voices grate on my inner ear hairs like nails on a chalk board, there fighting has me threatening boarding school.
I threw out all of their nerf bullets, complete with bin lid slamming and general incoherent ranting, because I was sick of picking them up, or hearing Oprah (the cat) bat them up and down the hallway at 3am.
Mother of the year, strikes again.
Don't even get me started on #cabbage.
On the upside. I am not as breathless, I have a little more energy and I have noticed a change in my purse already, which pleases me to no end.
My big test will be this weekend when I am going away with my favorite gals, half of which smoke....... Our girls weekend is an annual pilgrimage, the tradition is sacred, I can't miss it.
I plan on printing them, and taking them with me in an empty cigarette packet, so when the urge becomes unbearable, I will take one out and read it......
Far out..... Wish me luck.
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