So, after the feeling of general cruddiness wears off from being sick, and the full effect of “holy shit, I’m really doing it: after 9 years of regular cigarette-smoking, I have been nicotine free for 11 days” kicks in, life is pretty shit-sandwichy.
I’m cranky about everything. The cat is crying, but doesn’t want to be petted or picked up? Kick it in the kidney! You broke a nail? Pull the rest of your fakies off – screw them if they don’t want to stay on! Your chin is breaking out? Dig the offending blemish out: that will show that damn skin not to break out again!
Of course, I’m sure the other things I’m angry about and not mentioning here are valid things to be angry about, but they are liberally peppered with neurons that are full-blown-tantruming for a nicotine fix.