No, your eyes aren't deceiving you. The promised site makeover did not take place this weekend. Instead, I went and did something as stupid as begin attempt number (I lost count) at quitting the goddamn cigarettes. I would have posted this yesterday but most people that know me and know my dependence on the evil tobacky would have accused me of an April Fool's joke, but this is for real. Too real. Painfully real.
Not that I'm completely off the nicotine. For this attempt, I'm using Nicotrol,* which is an prescription inhaler of sorts. You get this little vial of nicotine, stuff it in a plastic crack pipe, and suck on it for about half an hour or until the vaporized nicotine quits burning your throat. The goal is to slowly ween myself from needing to have the inhaler permanently attached to my lip. We'll see how long that takes.
But even with this constant source of nic, my body knows that something's up. After all, it's not getting the 300 other chemicals that it gets from an average cigarette. Not to mention the fact that my brain, the evil organ, knows what I'm doing and realizes that for the next two weeks to a month to godknowshowlong that all bets are off, that it (if my brain's an it) and I will be locked in a battle for survival. It both wanting and not wanting, me not wanting and needing, us going at it until tears stream from our withdrawn eyes and we have to be prescribed something that will make the pain go away. Or we just call a truce and smoke a peace inhaler.
You get the picture.
So bear with me while I work on restoring clarity. Might take a few days.
*This means that I have now tried cold turkey, nicotine gum (two flavors and two strengths), the patch, nicotine lozenges, and Zyban. I have yet to try hypnotism or a lobotomy, both of which are quickly moving up the list of potential solutions to the problem.