I think I've turned a corner.
I was sick on Friday, and clawing the walls in pain due to some stomach ailment, and then for the first weekend since quitting, got through it without hating my life.
Cigarettes weren't the foremost item on my mind this weekend. People around me weren't giant, talking cigarettes.
Could it be....that I am actually getting used to this torture?
I remember dancing to the entire collection of Monster Hits in a club that never left the 90s, in Southampton - of all places - for hours. And didn't think of a cigarette once. Even after a Jaeger bombs and vodka spritzers.
But I guess Monster Hits will do that to you, because it's so shit hot.
I decided when we got home, fully hungover, that I'd do a foot detox.
You can buy these foot pads at Holland & Barret (a 'natural' chemist chain here). They were half price so I thought what the hey.
The idea is to stick the little sachet of Crystalised Magic to the bottom of your foot while you sleep. Only one foot per night.
Then, it apparently warms the foot, so you perspire out all your toxins. The next morning, you peel it off and there's this brown gooey sludge there. After two weeks of doing this, the sludge will start looking less brown.
Well let me tell you this for free: it was minging.
Do these things work? I'm skeptical. Sure, the crystals draw stuff through the feet. And supposedly the foot maps out your internal organs, if reflexology is anything to go by.
I have a searing headache this morning, so maybe it does do a little more than nothing?
But I dunno.
We watched What's Eating Gilbert Grape? last night because we don't have Internet or a TV yet. And for the third week in a row, on Sunday night, bawled my eyes out.
It's getting old.
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