Free

I finally did it. I quit my job.

I'll be curled up in bed, sleeping, for the rest of my fabulous day off.

I finally did it. I quit smoking cigarettes.

Today is day one, so please wish me luck. The sleeping my way through a day off is also a brilliant ploy to avoid nicfits.

I finally did it. I got drunk off rum and coke.

I drank too much rum throughout high school, so I gave my poison of choice a little rest. Well, clearly a year or two break is enough, because I'm back in the rum game. Just in time to rotate off vodka before I drink myself sober with martinis.

OK.... whatever. I'm hungover and didn't want to work this morning. And when I was hammered last night after work, I had some good revelations about my job. It makes me smoke too much. To solve that dilemma, either I would have to quit smoking or quit my job. Both are equally damaging to my person, so I just quit them both. I was going to stick it out for the week, but... I was also going to leave on good terms, but... who the fuck cares. It's not like I will ever go for drinks at an overpriced snobby bar anyways.

Now if you will excuse me, I have a hangover to nurse, feet to rub and cravings to stave off with water, carrotts and tomato juice.