It seems, Gentle Reader, that Music Monday was a bit of a bust. I thought it might be, but that’s never stopped me from trying new things. Unless you all start clamoring for more terrible ukulele videos, we’re going back to ordinary posts on Mondays.
Except that I have nothing prepared for today, and not even a glimmer of an idea of what to share with you. Why is that? I mean, I’ve pulled the last-minute routine successfully from time to time – why should today be any different?
Because I’m quitting fucking smoking and I want to punch everything until there’s no more punches to give.
Today is day two of the attempt. It wasn’t my idea, naturally. Maman is convinced that if she hasn’t quit smoking by the time she has her hip surgery, then she’ll die on the table. She’s convinced that it’s going to kill her for a variety of reasons, most of which can be boiled down to the fact that she’s the same age that my dad was when he died, and that therefore it’s destiny.
I’m quitting in solidarity, even though I think she’s being silly, and also because I certainly won’t be able to afford it while I’m tromping around Europe. I plan to switch to one of those vapor things, that look like sonic screwdrivers and give one enough nicotine to keep one from scratching one’s own eyes out, but I haven’t had a chance yet. They’re a little expensive to set up.
While I would like to have a longer post about some charming jaunt or other, I’m going to go dropkick a bear or something to release some of this aggression. Cheers, kittens.
UPDATE: I am no longer on the verge of tearing out someone’s trachea with my teeth, Gentle Reader, because I got a vaporizer this afternoon. Via a magical process that I don’t understand, it delivers nicotine in a fog of water vapor and candy-flavored syrup, and has calmed me the fuck down. I haven’t wanted a cigarette since I got it. Yo.