*hack*hack*hack*

Huh? wuzzzat? what day is it? It's Wednesday, a week from the end of February, I'm sick and all hepped up on Buckley's daytime yellow pills. I was going to say I'm sick again, but I don't think I stopped being sick from last time. As far as I can remember, the last time I felt really good was when we were in Jamaica. The sore throat started right after that, and never really went away.

I've done a fair bit of reading about the whole quitting smoking process (or what to expect when you're kicking a habit that's old enough to vote), and I understand that being sick is often part of the initiation into the world of non-smokerhood. My whole body and all of its chemical processes have been under the control of that evil sticky bastard Nicotine for almost half my life now, and it'll take a good while before my poor old body can figure out how to manage itself.

Pardon my moaning about being sick, what I meant to chronicle here is this: the sun was shining today, and I went and coughed my way around the garden. It was while I was wheezing over my tarragon sprouts that I came to the optimistic conclusion that this latest go-round of being sick is some sort of final push--my body's getting rid of the last remnants of cigarette-related badness, and I'm looking forward to sucking in great hearty lungfuls of spring air soon!