It's been almost 24 hours since I smoked my last cigarette.
I have been thinking about it seriously for months now and guiltily just kept smoking. With my Dad's surgery and own struggle with the nasty habit I decided to finally commit, on his birthday. As a sort of gift I guess if you'd call it that.
I got to visit with my Dad yesterday. He was still in the ICU when I stopped in and talked with my Mom this AM. They were waiting on a regular room to open up. He probably gets more attention in the ICU anyways so I would just rather him stay there, I mean who doesn't like being fussed over. He looked pretty damn good yesterday I'd have to say considering. They made him walk a short distance and sit up a bit. He started eating a little solid food but I don't think his appetite was quite back to normal yesterday. Hopefully I'll have more of an update on him this afternoon.
I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm tired. And. I'm cold.
I drove off and left Brad mid-sentence last night after getting haircuts etc. He only suggested we eat at home after we had already discussed eating out just minutes beforehand. And being the insane person I am without nicotine, knowing it was well after 8PM and I had nothing at home to throw together I said FINE and drove off. He did have his car there, so it wasn't completely terrible of me.
He of course followed me because that's what any nice husband would do. I went to the closest grocery store to grab some milk for the kiddo's breakfast in the morning. And some bread for their toast. We argued about bread, I mean seriously? I was nearly in tears I just wanted to go home and hide under the covers at this point. I mean who argues with their family about bread, yep that would be me. Completely embarrassing.
Then I stopped for gas because well I was about to run out and he so kindly got out and pumped my gas. Then the tears started pouring. I felt like a lunatic like I needed to be admitted somewhere stat. And here he was suggesting Sonic for dinner and pumping my gas and all I could do was cry and wish to be at home in my bed. He kindly asked Leighton to go sit in his car with Natalie and he apologized and tried to make me feel better, which normally works. Brad has a way with words he is the most tender sweetest man at times. But it just didn't make me feel any better and I needed to escape. Yes, I'm a flight risk BTW.
We got home, I heated up some leftover pizza for the kiddo's threw down some fruit cups, poured glasses of milk. And headed for my bedroom. I threw on my Jammie's and cried myself to sleep at 8:30PM.
Completely lame I know. But it's the truth. Hoping tonight is better. I mean arguing over bread and crying yourself to sleep is like rock bottom, right?