dragged behind the wagon

i've made the conscious decision to stop smoking again. again. yes, again, i say. even though i've only been smoking for three and a half weeks, and after nearly a year on the wagon, i can already tell you what's going to happen. in this order:

1. i will start to get a little twitchy. i won't look like the lady who drives our shuttle every morning (i've named her Cracketta Johnson); it will be much subtler. i'm the only one who will be able to notice it. it's already started.
2. i will feel generally uncomfortable. this general feeling of dis-ease will be followed by itchy eyes, a dryness in my throat, and a stomach ache. it's usually at this point (i say usually because i've lived this day more times than i can count) that i break down and buy a pack of cigarettes.
3. i become bloated and irritable. oh, wait. this isn't a midol commercial. so, X the bloating. but i will be the most heinous bitch any of you could ever imagine. since i can already hear my beloved queen friends shouting, bitch, you already IS the most heinous bitch i could ever imagine. shoo'!, i'll get my response out of the way early: you have no idea what i'm capable of. the only people who've witnessed it firsthand are terry and amanda; they must be smart, because amanda's four hours away and terry has handily removed himself from the situation.

so, dear readers, there it is. in the time it took me to write this blog, i began feeling the effects of stage two; it's 9.08am. wish me luck.