The good news is day four and still not smoked.
Not for the want of trying though. I found myself going through the kitchen shelf last night - what was I doing ? Looking for cigarette papers. Why ? Presumably to make a roll-up from the last remaining fag ends in the ash tray on the kitchen table.
Then later on I was looking for a pen and found a ready made roll-up in a dish in the lounge. This can only have been left by Son - so that would mean it had been there at least since he left in April. He had a habit (this is one of the things I do not miss) of making cigarettes then leaving them lying around on the shelves, in my pot pourri dishes, on the coffee table . . urghh. Usually if I found one I would bin it, what was my reaction when I found this stale, crumpled specimen ?
I was seriously on my way to find a lighter so I could smoke it.
Then I thought. Why ? Seriously. If you really are that desperate for a cigarette just go to the fucking shop and buy some, who am I cheating if I cave in after all. Only myself and if I can live with that does it really matter if I do or don't smoke. So I ripped up the disgusting item and put the kettle on.
Yup ! Not caved in yet.
But that got me thinking that really my psychological dependence must be stronger then the actual addiction. After four days, for which I've been feeling that ill that I haven't wanted to smoke ( in fact it was over 24 hours before it even occurred to me that I hadn't had a cigarette in how long ) surely the nicotine is pretty much out of my system. I wasn't even feeling any craving to smoke when I started rummaging through the kitchen shelves, and I swear I don't know why I went out there in the first place. I realised what I was doing when I remembered that I'd given the packet of papers that were there to a mate a couple of weeks ago.
The ash tray on the kitchen table had gotten hidden under a newspaper and I'd found it earlier. Normally I would've just emptied it. So something in the back of my mind registered the two half smoked cigarettes and later on sent me in search of papers to smoke them with.
Nicotine is evil.
I am being mind controlled by a chemical slave master.
|Mmmmm. . . . saved for later ?|
I think I might need to go and get some patches just to shut that noisy cunt up.
So anyway as a result of all this along came a large dose of introspection. Thanks flu ! Cheer me up with a big fat slice of what the fuck am I doing with my life why don't you.
Of course what else can you do really apart from think when you're feeling too shit to get up and do anything, watching TV gives you a headache, and you've slept so much that if you did it anymore there's a danger you'd need medication for bed sores and finally lose your grip on reality. Or what passes for it in my world anyway.
First thought that popped up for over-analysis ? I am all alone.
Well not entirely in the world, but certainly in my house. Even the cats keep fucking off for days on end. Bastards.
I'm gonna buy a huge fresh salmon and not share it with them.
Actually this particular gem of an idea first began over a week ago. I banged my head - and then it occurred to me that had I knocked myself out nobody would find me.
What if I
I could be lying in a crumpled heap in a pool of my own piss for days and no-one would notice. Even my friend I work for would probably think I'd just gotten to the end of a period of insomnia and would no doubt phone when I eventually surfaced from my self inflicted coma if I failed to show up on Monday morning.
I've taken to keeping my phone in my pocket all the time.
I was quite fortunate that this bout of illness happened a couple of days after I'd done my shopping but what if it hadn't ? What if I needed stuff - other then cigarettes - who the fuck is there to get it for me ?
Now, I don't wish to sound like I'm some sort of sad recluse with no friends.
There's a point to this.
Apart from my sister, who lives 10 mins away, I also have half a dozen mates who are equally close by. Or I did - it's been so long since I've seen a couple of them they may well of emigrated for all I know. I like to think that any and all of my friends know that even though I might not see them very often if they need me I'll be there. But my thoughts, as I was wondering which of them I could've called and asked to bring me coffee, loo rolls and emergency chocolate was "I can't ask her I haven't seen her for six months". So . . . by the same token if they needed something they might think of me but then draw the same conclusion.
So, decision made - I am going to make more of an effort to be a better friend.
This won't be too hard.
A monthly text would be more of an effort then I'm making at the moment.
But anyway who needs friends when you have sheep ?
|This is dedicated to you my baaheautiful flock.|
Next on the list of why won't my fucking stupid brain shut up bothering me topics. Finance.
I'm not skint, my outgoings and my wages are just about equal. But, I have a spare room that I could be renting out for pure profit, if I just got my fat lazy arse in gear and sorted the fucking room out. It needs painting - and I have plenty of paint, and a new carpet - for a 10ft square room ? About £40. Big deal.
|Opening shot of a porn movie anyone ?|
Like I need to fix the trim around the edge of the wooden floor in the lounge. The floor was done months ago, and I bought the trim soon after, I just never quite. . . And why the fuck have I been stressing about that for the last three days when it's been sat there ready to do for months.
So I 've made a list.
And this week-end - presuming I'm feeling better - which I think I will be, I am going to start working though the jobs on it. I will do them one at a time and finish one before starting another. Spare room is first.
And when that's finished I will
Who typed that ^ ?
Hmmm, weren't me I'm sure. Must be that slave master cracking his evil nicotine whip.
I will not succumb.
Seriously need to get well and get busy so I at least stop thinking about cigafuckingrettes. I've also realised that I hate being unable to get to work, and that's not just about me feeling like crap in myself it's feeling like crap because I am letting down people who rely on me. When you're an individuals support person as opposed to being part of a team if you can't be there for some reason it's not like there's other people to step in for you. Of course there is, it's not like I'm working for someone who lives alone. . . nah, that's welcome to my world. . . he has family members there, but I provide the option for him to do as he pleases in the course of a day. And I'm very aware that without me there it might just limit the options for everyone else in his family, they all have busy lives and their own things to do and I play a part in enabling that as well as him.
Am I saying that I like the feeling of being needed ?
Oh fuck I'm turning into my mother.
Goddam you introspective flu.
Get the fuck out of my system and let me get back to
And I'd like my voice back please.
I tried to talk on the phone yesterday, I'd like to think the hoarse husky tone makes me sound kind of sexy but I'm kidding myself really. More Linda Blair then Linda Fiorentino.
|Flu can go suck cocks in hell.|