2. We could either: A) Drive to Eden Prairie early Thursday morning, stuff our faces, and drive back to Duluth Thursday night; B) Drive to Minneapolis on Wednesday night, stay at a 1970s-style hotel, sink into a fluffy bed and watch "WKRP in Cincinnati" on a large TV and wipe our Divanni's pizza stained fingers on the white bedspread we are not responsible for laundering, ease ourselves awake, take a leisurely drive to Eden Prairie, stuff our faces, and drive back to Duluth. We choose B.
3. This is what it looked like when you pressed your hand against the bathroom door in the hotel room:
4. If you've ever seen "Teen Mom 2," you know that Jenelle is this lovely wild-child addict with a terrible personality. She has been ordered by the courts to lay off the weed while she's on probation, something she is unwilling to do. She smokes pot to dull stress and panic. Footage from this season includes young Jenelle in her car -- an Ed Harvey-esque seat cover on the driver's side of her new mini cooper -- and she's practically gnawing on the steering wheel as she yowls "I JUST WANNA SMOKE." This is exactly how I feel. Except, with Camel Lights.
5. My niece Mel introduced me to the game "Zombie Tsunami," which is like any iPhone game that requires brain-munching and hole-hopping: It's terribly addictive. It's a little like Super Mario Bros, if Luigi was a Zombie who sometimes turned into a Giant Zombie or a Football Player or Ninja and delighted in flipping cars. I'm pretty angry that I even know this exists. I've had to recharge my phone like four times in two days to keep myself in Brains. Chuck scoffed. Then today I saw him flipping a busload of brain vessels and gorging himself. Chrissie sent me a text that said: "I'M GOING TO BEAT UP YOUR NIECE."
6. Already my odds of having a heart attack have decreased and my circulation has improved. My senses of smell and taste should improve in upcoming weeks. I'm producing less phlegm. I'm crabby when I'm anywhere but in the comfort of our home. I had to plug my right ear while talking to someone a few days ago because the person's voice pierced my migraine.
Day 1 wasn't terrible. Neither was Day 2. Day 3 was awful. So was Day 4. This is Day 5 and all I want to do is write poetry about how fun it is to smoke a cigarette. A person can go through withdrawal for three weeks, I've read. Still, I'm an optimist. Every day I wake up and think: "Maybe today I'm over smoking!" Meanwhile, I'm treating myself very gingerly and not doing anything I don't want to do.
7. Mel used Sharpies to turn my hand into a frog puppet. This was funnier to me than to her.
8. On the drive back to Duluth, the weather got weird and it didn't take much to imagine that those white swirls on the highway were an element unique to the newly discovered planet whose surface we were cruising over in our space rover. Around us, everyone was either driving 30 mph or 70 with nothing in between. When I eased into our exit off the highway I hit a patch of ice and the car did a 180 so we were facing oncoming traffic from the shoulder of the frontage road. But nothing bad happened, so whatever.