I keep reminding myself of the way it went in 2003, how after a few weeks of no cigarettes (none of this one or two on the weekend crap; I'm talking none, nada, zip, zero ...), I didn't even really crave them anymore. I'm trying to talk myself through this, remind myself that if I don't give in at all, the cravings will actually go the fuck away.
And I repeat that great Michael Franti line over and over again inside my head: "... don't want a cigarette 'cause it's a form of slavery ..."
Right. Maybe one of these days I'll actually believe it.
Anyway, beyond that, the Antioch gathering is two and a half days away and, of course, everything is fucking going nuts. Tavia had to leave town and has left me with the keys to the space (no clue what the fuck I'm supposed to do with them); yesterday some official college woman emailed me to say she'd be attending and bringing literature ... Um ... thanks? I guess ... I don't know. She said something about bringing a sign in sheet and I just wonder whether that info will be shared or not (I'd planned on making my own, keeping it in my computer, asking folks if they'd be interested in having future gatherings at their homes ... I wonder if this official woman will take down all of our info and then not share it, much as the college didn't exactly share their info this time around).
Oh, and have I mentioned that it looks like we've sold my Grandmother's apartment? Yea. This is good news, except that it means that I'm supposed to be somehow dealing with the furniture thing ... my Mother is taking my Grandmother's furniture, which means I'm taking my Mother's furniture, and my Dad seems to think the truck from Council Thrift is coming like yesterday to take away anything I haven't snatched up for myself ... um, OK, sure, I'm working full fucking time, and trying to make this alumni/ae event come off in like two freaking days, so of course I've got time to drop fucking everything and come pick up some end tables! Arrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!
At any rate, under the weight of all of this I made a whimpering call late last night to unixd0rk to say that I just wished he could give me a hug, and tonight he came by the store at closing time and did just that. How cool is that, man? Oh, and remember the man who tried to scam The Co-op (and me) and write us a $500 bad check a month or so back? Yea, well, he stopped in at closing time too. Luckily this time we all recognized him, though.
Right. So I suppose I just needed to rant. It's PMS. It's quitting smoking. It's trying to do too fucking much at once. Who knows. All I know is that I feel like a total woman on the verge.