Blech.
Low-nicotine-related dream: I coughed up a great deal of chunky brown-gray hollandaise. I was embarrassed and tried to shove it down a shower drain before anyone saw it, but it stuck and strung from my fingers like ectoplasm.
I awoke at 7:30am feeling gross, knowing that a cigarette would fix me right up, stop the world from spinning, and ebb the itching in my marrow. Still, I forced myself to wait an hour before having one. That was a long hour.
I'm going to take Will's (and others', thank you all) advice and go on a long walk. Some exercise, high altitude, and the permeating, spicy scent of pine sounds like just the thing. It's the last day of ski season in Tahoe, yet warm enough to wear shirt sleeves. I'd like to walk around in a little snow.
I awoke at 7:30am feeling gross, knowing that a cigarette would fix me right up, stop the world from spinning, and ebb the itching in my marrow. Still, I forced myself to wait an hour before having one. That was a long hour.
I'm going to take Will's (and others', thank you all) advice and go on a long walk. Some exercise, high altitude, and the permeating, spicy scent of pine sounds like just the thing. It's the last day of ski season in Tahoe, yet warm enough to wear shirt sleeves. I'd like to walk around in a little snow.