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New Year, New Routine

For the upmteenth time, I've quit smoking. It's only been four days, but living in a newly painted house, and having freshly dental office cleaned teeth, I'm motivated. Plus I'd like my mouth to taste better, and I'd like to breathe better. Giving up cigarettes hasn't been easy. I have lots of nervous energy, and I don't seem to know what to do with my hands. The salesman at the cigarette store sold me a tiny chocolate mint cigar. It comes in a case about the size of a cigarette, and it smells wonderful to take an occassional whiff of. I'm wearing patches, which do give me vivid dreams.

Last night I was socializing with Paul and Heather McCartney, and their baby, because of being involved with a school project. He told me to talk in sentences, instead of blurting out half sense at his conversation. Kind of like his Chris Farley interview on Saturday night live. I got to hold the tiny baby, and we went sailing on a boat. It was a fine time. The bizarre part of the dream, which almost always comes along with the vivid dreams of the patches, was that my almost 20-year old cat was on board, and when we got back to shore, I couldn't find her. From that point until I woke up, I kept visualizing her drowning helplessly out in water so far from shore. I woke up upset, and practically in tears. I raced past the dogs, who were sleeping in the room with me, and laid down on the sofa with my dear slick sweet kitty. It took me two strong cups of coffee to get over it.

My mom had her Chow of thirteen years put to sleep just about a week ago. Since she's 83, she doesn't expect to get another pet. I had gotten her a Chow calendar for Christmas, so we returned it for a cat calendar yesterday. Maybe the dream was my guilt for not feeling her emotional loss. Wouldn't Freud be thought provoked!

I have a ticket that hasn't been paid yet, and I got a serious piece of paper in the mail about it. Pay, or this is the warrant number for your arrest. I went to the judge's office yesterday afternoon, and there were about 40 people ahead of me. One can pay over the Internet, which I think I did this morning. The judge's office can't verify payment over the Internet for 24 hours, so I need to not get pulled over by a cop for any reason, and make a phone call early tomorrow. I've never been to jail, and I don't want to go now.

I spend a good deal of time around the house primping over the hardwood floors, and still putting things from boxes to where they belong. I have 17 boxes on the patio, and luckily there's no rain in the forecast forever. I'm working at a slow but thoughtful pace.

Mom and I have either coffe and muffins at my house for breakfast, or go out to eat for lunch--ever day so far since I've been in the house. It's great spending time together, and it's nice to be able to take pride in cleaning. Off to the dust mop. . . .