Sunday, July 10, 2011

Nicotine Withdrawal Will Turn You Into a Monster. A Sobbing, Screaming, Snotty, Raging Monster. Like the Krakken, But More Than That.

Today marks 4 weeks since I decided to stop being nicotine's bitch, and since my family is completely unaware that I've smoked for the last decade I can't really brag about this accomplishment to them. Yes, I'm 29 years old and I still hide shit from my mother. Don't pretend you don't do it, too, and if you don't, well aren't you just a paragon of maturity and also shut up.

I quit cold turkey, which seems to be the way to go, but that third day was...special. Very, very special. The best way to describe to you how special is to say that at some point I realized I was sobbing my guts out over pancake batter, and I still don't know exactly how I got there. My husband came into the kitchen to be supportive and I immediately went from suicidal, sobbing, blackout depression to a red rage that made me want to stab everything that ever was, ever.

I decided it was a good time to get out of the kitchen. Because that's where I keep the knives.

You will be happy to hear that I am still married and I did not actually stab anything. I may have THROWN something and I may or may not have had several conniption fits that would put even the worst behaved toddler to shame, but no one's dead. I'm calling it a win.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Wanna hear about different methods of drying your lumber? Because I know some.

Today I stood on top of a lumber mill (its really hot up there), inspected a rendering plant (reinforces vegetarianism), and inspected a wood chipping plant. This has become my regular routine. Get up at an un-godly hour (seriously, why has science not done something about mornings yet?), drive around in a big truck, put on hard hat and manly boots, stomp around somewhere kind of gross, drive big truck back to office, go home. I'm feeling a little...manly. Powerful? Strong? Interesting? Yes. Feminine? No. Maybe I'll start wearing expensive lingerie under my fire retardant coverall.

Anyhow. Last week my husband came home from work and told me that one of the women in his office was really excited to meet me. When I asked why, he said he didn't know,she just said she was really excited to meet his "little wife".

She's clearly expecting to meet Donna Reed. I'm a little more...who was a wife who had a more masculine job than her husband and didn't clean the house wearing high heels? I'm drawing a blank. Jennifer Beals in Flashdance, except married and without the dancing thing, maybe.