Okay, now that I’ve taken a cheap shot at Cricket (V7Network), for having choked, trying to swallow a 12 oz. ribeye, whole…
I’m really glad Nicholas was there, though. I imagine the sight of a client, face-down in their French onion soup, would upset the management, and all those paramedics milling about would make it difficult for the dessert cart to make its way to the rest of the customers. No sense in inconveniencing others!
(Okay, make that another cheap shot! I just can’t help myself.)
So, this morning, my wife and I had our first smoke at 8AM, another at 9:30, and we just had our third of the day at 11:00. That doesn’t sound like people that are quitting, I realize, but you need to take into account that normally, we have four or five with our first cup of coffee. Believe me, it’s progress!
Surprisingly, increasing the interval by 50 percent has hardly been noticeable. I had expected it to be more difficult than yesterday, but so far, no problem. Neither of us is nervous or irritable, and we haven’t been giving each other (or anyone else) dirty looks. I haven’t kicked the dog, slammed a door or wolfed down an entire day’s caloric intake in one gulp. I feel SO virtuous!
At this point, I haven’t even been making use of the breathing exercises I outlined here. And I’m not drinking a lot of water, either. I normally limit my water intake to ice in a glass of sour mash whisky… but 100 or so ounces of water… well, I’d need to go out and buy a hell of a lot more whisky!
Not that that would be a bad thing, of course. I’ll try to keep an open mind.
Which brings me around to another topic. Apparently, the old adage of, “give a man an inch, and he’ll take a mile” also applies to women!
This quit-smoking campaign was my idea. I figured my wife would be pleased and supportive, and she has been. But we have barely begun this process, and she’s already talking about drinking less. By that, she doesn’t mean US, because she doesn’t drink at all. She means ME!
Someone… please tell this woman that this is not a good time to be attacking the last real pleasure I can look forward to with my clothes on. I’m not irritable, but I’m also not all that friggin’ complacent!
I’m thinking someone needs to lighten up on their use of makeup and watching soap operas.
How do ya like THEM apples, SWEETHEART?