Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Smoking or non?

Hubby quit smoking on Jan 1, and I am so proud of him. Of course, he quit when ds17 was born, when dd16 was born, when he turned 30 (for three years), when ds12 was born, when he turned get my drift. He's a habitual quitter. But he's cute, so I'll keep him.

He doesn't smoke much, but he works with his best friend from high school, and their smoking has a heritage on it. Of course, his friend doesn't smoke unless he's around dh, and doesn't buy the ciggies -- he bums from dh. So why in the world do they smoke, when they both want to quit? It's one of those mysteries of life.

DH is evil when he quits. OK, maybe not EVIL, but it's not pretty. So this time, when he was getting, shall we say, FUSSY, about six hours into the "I'm quitting smoking" thing, I told him that either he was getting a patch, or he was leaving, or I was moving out. Cause I was not about to go through that again.

"Nope," he said, "I'm doin' it cold turkey." "Nope," I said, "I see a patch in your future." He wanted to argue, till I told him HIS definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He didn't argue.

So I found myself standing at the CVS counter, buying the patches, when it occurred to me: this is an ego issue. The man just couldn't bring himself to buy the patch, but he'll wear 'em if I buy them. And he has. Granted, I make sure that they go on every day, but he wears them, and it's working, so far.

Only problem with the patch: it gives him weird dreams if he leaves it on too long. The first night, he left it on all night, then complained about nightmares and weird dreams. He started taking it off, and was doing fine, but the other night he forgot and left it on. And I woke up with him bicycling madly in the air, with all four extremities. I have no idea where the man was biking to, but he was going FAST.

This morning, he got up and complained again about weird dreams, after leaving the patch on. Said he dreamt that he was singing on stage with Bono. I don't get it -- THAT's a problem? Hubby sat back and thought for a minute, then agreed -- we should all be so lucky as to sing onstage with Bono. So fuggetaboutit. Just don't smoke.

And ten days into it, he's cheery, and hasn't smoked. Those patches are great.

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