Maybe you’ve wondered where I’ve been. For the last month, I visited the land of the doldrums which is first defined as a spell of listlessness or despondency. Although the first definition is undeniably correct, the third definition is probably more appropriate to my way of thinking. It reads as “a state or period of inactivity, stagnation or slump” per the always correct Merriam Webster dictionary. For three very long weeks, I have played endless games of Solitaire, Cubis Gold, Hearts and Spider Solitaire while watching endless, boring repetitive television shows with rare exceptions during the May sweeps period.
During this deliberate time of hibernation, I avoided people for the most part not even replying to emails unless absolutely necessary. My mind was mush. My head felt as though I had a bad sinus infection without the infection. Moodiness was the order of the day ranging from sheer aggravation to down right mean. I wanted to be left alone and I was. During the first couple of weeks of this slump, I was actually afraid to drive since my ability to think was scattered and jumped around faster than a flea.
Finally, the need to get out of here overcame all fears and I went shopping. I bought a sectional sofa and two televisions. It was a planned activity, but I was so numb that spending all that money didn’t even phase me. I knew I had better watch my shopping trips carefully. And, yes, I did feel better. The televisions were delivered the next day and the sofa the following Thursday. The satellite crew came in this week to get me all set up with HD receivers with all the extras. Again, well worth it.
The doldrums were anticipated and I had plenty of proper prior planning to get the mindset I needed to get through this. You see, I have finally, and I do mean for the last time, quit smoking with the help of Chantix. I dreaded the entire affair, but it was at the top of my to-do list and the time had come. Cigarettes were the friend that was always there when others weren’t. For the past month, not only have I endured the painful withdrawal but also the loss of a “friend”.
It was only today—three weeks, two days, eight hours and thirty-six minutes—after I quit that I realized this wasn’t a death in the family. It was a divorce. Baby, you’re outta here. Yeah, I’ll still see you around, but please don’t look to me for any comforting puffs. You have sweet talked me all the while infiltrating me with all sorts of nasty stuff. I really do feel much happier without you. And, yes, there will be plenty of times that I will miss you, but that too will be temporary. Finally, I realized that the money not spent on cigarettes should pay for the sectional and televisions in about five years.