Confessions

OK. Quitting smoking is very hard. It is not fun. I find myself often forgetting the reasons why I am quitting because all I can think about are the things I love about smoking. I have put on a good face through most of this and most people I see think I am doing really great. I have always been a happy, content, friendly, easy-going person. Since the smoking cessation has started, in the privacy of my home, a monster lurks. She is mean, demanding and kind of a bitch. This monster is me. My husband has greatly suffered for the sake of the cause and I am compelled to acknowledge his strength and patience through this ordeal.

This makes me seem pretty nice, doesn't it? Please don't think that this is out of the goodness of my heart. This homage was inspired by the man to whom it is dedicated. Without his little reminder, I would not have thought to do this. The other night as we were driving in the car, Marty turned to me (after I snapped at him) and said very quietly, so that it was almost a whisper, "Maybe you should smoke. I miss my MC." This is what made me realize that I have to let the world know about him and his fortitude, so that we can all give him some credit.

The following is a list of my sins (It is not complete. Sadly, I know there are many that I am forgetting.):

We are all aware of the gravy ordeal, so I will not rehash that one. Ooof. In my defense, I normally don't take kitchen mishaps well.

For all of the curse words said to Marty in the last two weeks, I offer my apologies to him. Sorry Marty!

For all of the times I have bitten his head off (I'm surprised he has any head left), I am truly sorry.

There is an issue with Comcast and our internet has been anything but reliable lately. I sat down to make our football pool picks and the internet would not work. This was not my husband's fault. I should not have yelled at him for this.

On the same day, Marty wanted to see how we were doing in our fantasy football league, so we stopped at my parents' house to use their computer. At the time, I felt that it was Marty's fault that my team lost and he got a "thanks for making me stop" and some other abuse. Sorry. My team lost. You did not make them, Marty. I know this.

I know it is not Marty's fault that my pants were too tight. I am sorry that I took out my frustration on you.

Alcohol and cigarettes are a great pair. Like peanut butter and jelly, chocolate and peanut butter, Posh and Becks, one is good without the other, but together they are perfection. After a night of drinking, I really really really wanted a cigarette. I told Marty to stop at Wawa because I was willing to beg a stranger for one blessed cigarette. My husband forgot to stop. I did not remind him 1 because I don't think I really wanted to smoke and 2 because in my beer addled mind I thought that he should have remembered every slurred word that came out of my mouth that evening. So as a punishment, I would not let him have Tylenol for his headache. He asked me for it and I said no and then I hid the Tylenol. Shameful. Honey, my apologies. And the to the rest of you: Yes. I really did that.

We went to dinner with friends on Saturday night and we arrived first. The table had two seats on each side. Marty sat opposite me, not next to me. Instead of being nice, I said "What the F***. Did you want to sit next to another dude or another man's wife!? I know I would rather sit next to my OWN f**king husband!" I could have politely asked him to sit next to me, gently pointed out the seating arrangement or just stood up and sat next to him. In fact, he probably did prefer to sit next to someone else's wife. I way overreacted. Sorry, Marty.

There was an instance where he gave me attitude for all of the attitude that I was giving him. I then made him feel very very guilty since this quitting smoking business is so hard. That was unfair to you. Sorry.

For anything else that I did. Really, I apologize. I am not proud. You are super.