A few other things I'm noticing is that it makes things taste bad, which I don't suppose is a bad thing. I've not really been hungry, and even something like a piece of cinammon gum just doesn't taste right. Now, I don't know if this is because my tastebuds are healing, but I don't recall going through the same thing in the past when I decided to quit smoking. I've been a little nauseous, too, which is a possible side effect.
The bizarre dreams, though, boy. I'll tell you, I've never dreamed the way I have this past week. It would be great if I didn't wake up feeling like I'd spent the entire night having deep, meaningful conversations instead of sleeping.
A few have been on the scary side. Take last night, for example.
Witchiepoo from H.R. Pufnstuf was driving a UPS truck and ran over my dog.
Yes, that Witchiepoo. She scared the holy hell out of me as a child. In fact, my mom had to place a ban on the show because she got tired of digging me out of the toybox or the hall closet when I got scared.
Witchiepoo got in my head and for whatever reason, my subconscious decided she needed to drive a UPS truck and take out my dog. Disturbing, really.
In other news, I've tried to run away from home twice unsuccessfully. The first day, I'd had my fill and thought I'd go for a drive. My mistake was once sneaking out of the house, I decided to get the mail at the post office first.
About that time, my youngest son saw me, and hopped into the car. We ended up going to get milk.
Again today, I tried to slip out to go to the grocery...alone. And again, I was caught and the youngest child again insisted he go. I really, really wanted to hear myself think, even if I had to do some grocery shopping to accomplish this. I didn't want a sidekick. I wanted to be alone. I don't mind saying this annoyed me, and it was probably apparent in the parking lot of the grocery store.
I was out in this bigger expanse of the parking lot when I notice this Taurus was heading directly my way at quite a clip. I was where I needed to be, but ole grandma must not have been paying attention or her eyesight was failing her horribly.
I stopped, and in that moment I felt like I was channeling Kathy Bates' character in "Fried Green Tomatoes," in some sense. I really didn't think she'd hit me, but then I started doubting myself because this old broad didn't seem to notice.
And when she did realize she was dangerously close to hitting my car, she swerved and smiled. Yes, she smiled.
"Oh, a smile is going to make that all better. Almost hit me and smile. Just smile. Opps, almost had a wreck, but I'll smile to show how sorry I am. A big smile makes everything all better," I rambled to myself.
"Just pay no direct attention to where you're driving or what you're doing, but be sure to smile big," I continued.
My son then said, "Uh, mom, you're weird. I'm not going with you the next time."
"Promise?" I asked.
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