99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall…

96 Hours Without a Cigarette…

Today at 2pm marked 96 hours without a cigarette. I was washing my work clothes in my laundry room as I walked through the kitchen and looked at the clock on the stove.  It read 2pm.  I had made it four days without smoking. I smiled.  I immediately called Stacy at work on the phone to share in my jubilation!

“You make me want to quit!” she said excitedly. “I would have never thought you would have made it this far.”

“I’m giving up a 22 year habit,” I told her. “They say it’s like giving up heroin in it’s intensity. I believe it. It has been rough.  I have wanted a cigarette so badly today.”

“I am going to miss you tonight,” Stacey then said. “Give the dogs a hug for me.  I know you will want to go to bed shortly after you get home from taking your mother.”

I told her I loved her and would see her tomorrow afternoon.  She had to get off the phone not being able to talk long at work without her supervisor getting angry at her for wasting time.  We said our goodbyes and I missed her dearly.

And You Thought My Mother was Interesting.  Just Wait…  

“You won’t believe what your father did to me when we were in Washington a few weeks ago,” mom said vehemently as she slurred her words on our drive home from Red Lobster and Connie’s. “It was terrible!!! Just terrible!”

Mom had just had two large Piña coladas and a very large margarita.  She was telling me EVERYTHING as I tried not to smile and I was trying to take her seriously.  We forewent a heavy meal and just split a clam chowder appetizer and had two large salads with bread – the blue cheese dressing being extremely delicious.

“What did he do?” I asked anxiously as we passed a big rig pulled over by four State Troopers and a K-9 unit, lights blazing. 

“Oh!!! Look at that!!!” mom exclaimed at all the police. “That trucker must have been selling drugs from his truck!!!”

I laughed. “Now back to your story,” I coaxed, interested in what dad did.  I wouldn’t be surprised.  He treats my mother and I like adult children.

“Well,” mom said. “You see? Your brother had ordered takeout Chinese.  We all began to eat in the den around the TV with our chopsticks.  Your father told me I had to go sit away from the family at the kitchen table alone as I was sloppy and would spill food all over their carpet.  Wasn’t that terrible? It was so demeaning!”

“That was terrible!” I exclaimed, realizing I had already heard this same story one time before. 

I smiled as we passed the Cusseta exit just miles from home.  Mom was having a good time and was feeling really well being so tipsy. She was feeling her oats and was in a gossipy mood. Connie and the drinks had worked wonders for her spirits.  

“Let’s don’t go home,” mom then told me pleadingly. “Let’s ride around the Valley for an hour. I have nothing to do, but go lie in the bed for the rest of the evening.”

By this point, I was very tired.  I had worked eight hours, come home and did laundry and then took mom to her soft tissue therapist and out to eat.  I was anxious to get home.  As a concession, I left the interstate and drove us deep down into Fairfax, Alabama in the old mill village where Rachel and I lived when we were married.  Mom and I spent some time looking at and critiquing people’s houses and their yards.

“Your father says he was very wary about you starting to paint your house,” mom told me as I finally drove us home.  She was telling me everything dad wouldn’t want her to say. “He says you never finish what you start.”

“He did, did he?”

“We also went looking for new cars the other day,” mom then said, changing the subject. “I told him very assertively that if he could spend $56,000 dollars for a BMW then he could at least get me a Honda Civic with a sunroof!”

I laughed.  Mom really was telling it all. I told her to tell dad to buy her a Honda Civic EX.  It would have a sunroof and a bigger, more powerful engine.

We had a good time. I am so glad to be home, though. It is two hours away from my bedtime and I am just going to relax in my Lay-Z-Boy for a moment. It is going to be so nice to be off tomorrow and get caught up on the lawns I need to finish mowing which will be cathartic for me in the early morning air.