Husband’s Smoking v Spousal Health

Tony smoking

Husband’s Smoking v Spousal Health

Before I go on, I need to say that I acknowledge that I am not perfect – not even close. My faults are many and varied; I have no patience, do not suffer fools gladly, am blunt to point of being offensive, dread boredom, am stubborn, defensive, rebel against authority and I rarely apologise (the latter only because I’m rarely, if ever, wrong). I do have one particular pet hate – people eating noisily. I’m as likely to turn off the telly for extreme violence as I am when ‘Eastenders’ actors are having their dinner. Seeing past their tonsils to what they’ve had for their breakfast, along with the added audio of crunching, salivating, slurping and the scraping of cutlery makes me want to throw the tv out the bloody window. Apart from that, I’m actually quite easy-going.

So now we’ve got that out of the way – yes? Perfection did indeed pass me by. I fear a possible psychiatric diagnosis of misophonia in in order, among other equally unsavory things.

Now to my husband’s faults. So the long suffering Tony has finally given up the cigarettes, without the aid of Chantix I might add – the dangerous medication that the doc was trying to push on him. So we can all sleep safe in our beds, in the full knowledge that he won’t kill us all in our sleep. That’s one consolation I suppose. Although, whether he can sleep soundly in his bed is another matter entirely.

I suppose the bold husband could be diagnosed with an addictive personality, if he ever had the misfortune to go up against psychiatry that is, which thankfully is highly unlikely. He actually can’t drink a glass of wine without finishing the bottle; when sent for chocolate he can’t just buy one bar, has to buy a shed load; can’t smoke ‘just one’ with that glass of wine, he has to chain smoke. So after much cajoling and good honest-to-God blackmailing from his health-conscious sons, he finally did the decent thing and gave up the fags. On New Year’s Eve, he willingly and quite good-naturedly, stubbed out his final cancer stick.The good nature, it has to be said, didn’t last very long but we won’t go there, at least not just yet. Naturally though, he had to swop something for that horrible thing he used to have hanging out of his gob – Food, food and more food! How is it possible that one skinny man can consume so much in 24 days? Now considering my pet hate, I fear this is not going to end well.

While relaxing at night with the tv, computer, book, or whatever, I have this strange frazzled man beside me munching in my ear. His attempts to keep the noise down just prolong the agony. Apples. Did you know apples can be bad for your health? Buckets of sweets, pizza, chinese and indian food being munched beside me are tolerated, admittedly through gritted teeth, but apples are most definitely the worst. Chomping on an apple could have the unfortunate side-effect of leaving a person dead, or at the very least divorced.

Who knew that fruit could be almost as bad for you as Chantix? Did I say I earlier that I have no Patience; I should get a sainthood award for what that man’s putting me through!


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