Day One - Morning
So I've given up smoking. Yayy! This blog is going to be my place for psychotic ramblings during the whole detox period. I'm also hoping to turn it into a best-selling self-help book. After all, what could be better than a 'stop smoking' book written by someone while they've stopped smoking.
The first step to stopping smoking is to try and almost smoke yourself to death the night before you quit. This is very importnat as it allows you to think 'My God, smoking is really rather unpleasant. I'm so glad I don'y have to do it anymore.' So I stayed up smoking and playing GTA: San Andreas till 3am which I thought was a very mature approach to the whole business. I think I managed to reduce my lung capacity to about 10% which felt about right - who needs lungs if you're not going to smoke?
This morning got off to a flying start. I overslept. And then the lovely wife, who has also given up, and who instigated this whole sorry mess, rather than wake me up, decided to let me continue oversleeping and then be in a coldly simmering rage when I did finally get up. (I nearly wrote give up there - see how the feverish mind works!)
Anyway, we got through the morning without killing each other (though it was a close run thing for the children!) and now I'm at work. I allowed myself a sausage and egg Mcmuffin on the way in which was rather delicious. I am likely to gain weight during this whole adventure so the next blog will be 'Defeating the Legions of Obesity.'
So far so good. The only really difficult thing is that everytime I finish a sentence I feel popping out for a fag and then I remember that I can't have one and that is, frankly, a little annoying.
Right now I feel a little sponge in my chest. It's not unplesant but it's just sitting there, waiting. It wants something. I know what it wants. But it can't have it. I don't trust it. It's up to something. A warm feeling, like honey, is spreading across my chest only to be replaced with the great hollow emptiness of complete nothingness. Now there's a silver lozenge running from my throat to my lungs - hovering, shimmering, dipped in wax and trembling like a plucked string. The creature is in his cave, gnawing on a traveller's foot with yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness as he chuckles and chomps and waits for his next attack.
OK. I think I'll try some work. See how that goes.
The first step to stopping smoking is to try and almost smoke yourself to death the night before you quit. This is very importnat as it allows you to think 'My God, smoking is really rather unpleasant. I'm so glad I don'y have to do it anymore.' So I stayed up smoking and playing GTA: San Andreas till 3am which I thought was a very mature approach to the whole business. I think I managed to reduce my lung capacity to about 10% which felt about right - who needs lungs if you're not going to smoke?
This morning got off to a flying start. I overslept. And then the lovely wife, who has also given up, and who instigated this whole sorry mess, rather than wake me up, decided to let me continue oversleeping and then be in a coldly simmering rage when I did finally get up. (I nearly wrote give up there - see how the feverish mind works!)
Anyway, we got through the morning without killing each other (though it was a close run thing for the children!) and now I'm at work. I allowed myself a sausage and egg Mcmuffin on the way in which was rather delicious. I am likely to gain weight during this whole adventure so the next blog will be 'Defeating the Legions of Obesity.'
So far so good. The only really difficult thing is that everytime I finish a sentence I feel popping out for a fag and then I remember that I can't have one and that is, frankly, a little annoying.
Right now I feel a little sponge in my chest. It's not unplesant but it's just sitting there, waiting. It wants something. I know what it wants. But it can't have it. I don't trust it. It's up to something. A warm feeling, like honey, is spreading across my chest only to be replaced with the great hollow emptiness of complete nothingness. Now there's a silver lozenge running from my throat to my lungs - hovering, shimmering, dipped in wax and trembling like a plucked string. The creature is in his cave, gnawing on a traveller's foot with yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness as he chuckles and chomps and waits for his next attack.
OK. I think I'll try some work. See how that goes.
posted by dan at 9:30 AM
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