Day 3. Murderous nicotine craving stampede seems to have slowed down to a murderous nicotine craving...saunter. Or maybe a murderous nicotine craving trot.

To give you all an idea of my current sitch, I'm used to smoking about 15-20 cigarettes a day. So approximately a pack a day.  For the past 11 years (I'm not counting the smoking dilettante years preceding my pack a day habit.) I'm heavily addicted, to the point where my pink little lungs are not so much the pink anymore. I'm sure if you opened me up you'd find some sort of lung shaped oily mass in my chest hole.

But yesterday I only had a grand total of 7 cigarettes. People! This is HUGE! And today I went FIVE. WHOLE. HOURS between smokes (current count: 2). Sure, I ate a lot of Skittles and maybe ground my teeth down to nubs, and stopped talking to the world, but still.

Quitting (or at this stage, cutting down) has had it's effect on the house, too. In an effort to make the loooong hours between cigarettes go by faster, I cleaned. And ironed. And knit. Then ripped out all my knitting. Good-bye, Norwegian mitten. May you be reborn in a more appropriate gauge.

Thank you, Wellbutrin, and your low instance of sexual side effects!