61 Hours.

It started out a bit bumpy, this quitting journey. The first day, everything was doing my head in, then halfway through the day, I realized I had my last smoke the day before so I'd already done 24 hours without dwelling on it. I needed to just ignore the massive portion of my brain that caused me to light up.

So I occupied that part of my brain with other things. Cleaning, chewy, Guitar Hero, and if I'm honest, sucking back on the chocolate milk because nothing says 'I won't smoke' like being trapped in the can, battling your body's intolerance to excessive milk consumption.

Yesterday, my third day, I just didn't want one. I was busy, and spent the vast majority of my day in the car, which means I won't be smoking anyway.

Today, I woke up. Happy my patch stayed on overnight and I didn't have dreams about lighting up & wondering all day whether it actually happened or not. I bathed the Kidlets. I had a shower. I went about my normal activities.

Then it happened.
Catty was let into the backyard.
Little C was crying for who knows what reason.
Master S ended up with no pants on singing a song that sounds like 'Bad Day' in a chipmunk voice.
Miss E ended up with no pants on, and was bouncing on the kitchen bin which she'd turned upside down.
And for the life of me, I could not open my patch packet. I swear they make it almost impossible to quit with their packaging!

All at the same time.

And. I. Just. Couldn't. Do. It.

I snapped at Hubby the minute he walked in the door for his smoke stash. He told me their location and I proceeded to dash outside in a rage.
At the cat.
At the kids.
At him.
At the fucking stupid pharmacy and their impossible-to-open patches.

But it wasn't until I lit it and smelt the aroma of cancer rolled into a smoke, a Pall Mall one at that, (seriously, Pall Mall, Hubby!? WTF.!?), that I stopped and realized I was raging at myself.

I battled with my will power for about two minutes. I could feel my willpower muscle flexing as it got bigger and stronger, ala the stupid Quit Ad's on television.

I butted the cigarette out and knocked on the front door to be let back inside because it was fucking raining and cold.

Hubby answered it armed with the opened patch...

Let's see how I go for the next few hours, as to whether I make a full four days...