How Many Times Can a Person...

...hit the "Restart" button of life? There is one, right? Welp, I'm pushing it again.

*Restart*

Status update:
I've been wearing the nicky patch again for the last...almost 2 weeks. Note that I did not say "I haven't had a cigarette for almost 2 weeks". There was a girls' night out, and I'll be damned if that doesn't include us indulging in ALL of our forbidden-as-mommies guilty pleasures. But, this time, I didn't bring the smokes home with me. I sent them home with S. "Hold 'em for me," I said, "we're going out for your birthday next week, right?" She rolled her eyes, as usual. But, I didn't bring them home. Baby steps. Because, if I have cigarettes in the general vicinity of me, I will smoke them. There's no use trying not to.

I'm not good at the self-denial thing. I want what I want when I want it. I blame my dad. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. This personality trait has its positives, but I really can't think of any right now. I've accepted and embraced it. If there's a cigarette, I will smoke it. If there's wine, I will drink it. If there's a bag of Cheetos, I will eat it. If there's a 20-something cute boy, I will inappropriately attempt to make eye contact. If there's a computer, I will obsessively socially network. *shrugs* I am who I am.
So, avoidance is my answer.

Re: having a point to my day.
Today I will:
~read a parenting book in the hopes that I will absorb by osmosis how to interact with my daughter in a way that does not leave her as an adult with emotional scars, sleeping with inappropriate men, going to therapy twice a week.

~make a To-Do list and hang it in a spot where I will see it every day and feel like shit that I haven't accomplished my To-Dos. (To-Do's? No. To-Dos. No apostrophe. Take that, Utards. )

~Dance around my living room to techno music, pretending I'm still in Tahoe. Beats going to the gym.

That's plenty, right? I can feel like I have a point to my existence, right?

Riiiiight.