Non, Please

The great thing about quitting smoking while afflicted with a sicky sore throat? The desire for a cigarette is so minimal that the nicotine withdrawal you've become accustomed to with each quitting phase doesn't faze you at all. Of course, I find myself rubbing the patch throughout the day as if it's somehow transmitting an extra kick of nicotine to my system.

I realize it's probably not happening.

After a lollipop binge that left my mouth feeling like a layer of artificial fruit flavoring had taken hold and would never let go, the need to put something--anything--in my mouth to quell the cravings has faded considerably.

Unfortunately, the current state of affairs chez Bravermundo (our impending homelessness leads my father to wander about singing, "I am a hobo") means Striving For Five is a far-off memory. Vegetables, I still heart you.