I don't have a particularly good history with quitting smoking (obviously, otherwise I would have, you know - quit), but given that I am now a Woman of No Income (otherwise known as staying home to oversee the renovations, which haven't actually started yet), I think it's only fair that the EEB shouldn't have to pay for my nicotine addiction. He would quite rightly point out that he already pays for my shoe addiction. And my chocolate addiction. And my lingerie addiction. And my 'ooooh that's so pretty, I can has?' addiction. Also, my children hate it that I smoke. Oh and my father died at a relatively young age of a heart attack after a lifetime of smoking. And I keep getting bronchitis. And I'd quite like to grow old disgracefully, not die young of some smoking related condition. Enough reasons already? I sure hope so.
So I smoked the last smoke in the packet at 6.30 this morning. EEB and the kids are ducking for cover - watch this space and wish me luck.
In unrelated news, the dog was outside for five minutes and is now covered in Something Disgusting With Tomatoes In It. Not sure how I'm going to remove it, given that we don't use the bathtub since the 'water leaking down the side of the bathtub and shorting out the washing machine and dryer on the day before we flew to Australia when I still had five loads of washing to do' incident of July 08.