Less fatigued today. That's a purely subjective assessment which I can't put a number to, but I defintiely feel less knackered today.
Still coughing, but that's normal and reducing. It's nothing to worry about, just the tracheal cilia waking up and noticing the mess. The cough won't last the week.
No sign of fidgeting or irritability. No desperate cravings for tobacco. Nicotine-free Electrofag use is still low. It's a useful distraction but real, nicotine-free tobacco would be a better test.
I miss the smoking, but it's not the same as a drug addict deprived of smack who's climbing the walls. It's the sort of feeling you get when you have a late-night urge for cheese on toast, but the bread's gone mouldy. Or when you really fancy a whisky but you have some intricate and detailed work to do. Maybe this is how Catholics feel when they give something up for Lent.
Well, so far I am still sane and am not rolling lettuce from the fridge in strips torn from the Press and Journal and trying to light them.
The lettuce isn't dry enough yet.