I had intended on writing a light-hearted entry today about the impending 30th birthday. It isn't technically until Monday, but by the time I'm back in the office the change will have already occurred ("I'll have aged by Monday," I was going to say, "but no more than you will have. The difference is I'll be drinking for free all weekend.")

But the gods had a different plan, it seems.

It all started when I quit smoking on Monday. I didn't want to blog about it until I had at least a week under my belt (in case things - ahem - didn't work out). So I kept quiet.

The first few days were a breeze, but yesterday I had a minor "emotional outburst" that led to a raging bout between me and a sweater that just wouldn't listen. Darn thing wouldn't fit right.

So I swung it around, cursed a bit and let the old temper flare.

When I got into work I joked to a colleague, "Well, at least now the worst is over. It's all downhill from here."

I was wrong.

Last night I met up with a friend at Top of the East for a mini-write-in to catch up on my NaNoWriMo word count. Just as I hit the 2,000-word wall and reclined back in my seat, content with my productivity, I noticed some moisture had collected on my phone.

Perplexed, I wiped it off. I hadn't noticeably spilled anything - where'd the water come from? But at least the phone was still working...wait. No it isn't.

Annoyed, but still in good spirits, I left it on the counter to dry out overnight.

But when I awoke this morning my phone was still defunct. Even worse, I was smack in the middle of a menopausal-strength emotional breakdown.

For no adequate reason, my eyes started watering. My cheeks flushed and I felt that nagging tug at the back of my throat.

I drove, frowning and near tears, to AT&T.

In the midst of explaining what had happened, the welling tears broke free. First one, then another, sailing down my face. "It's just frustrating because I really need my phone this weekend," I said, wiping my nose with my sleeve.

The AT&T guy looked scared.

"I'm sorry. I'm okay. It's just that I recently quit smoking and today I can't seem to stop crying. Pay no attention. I'm good." Insert awkward, snotty smile.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do for my phone in the store.

I went back to work, still weepy but also laughing at the ridiculousness of it. My coworkers were appropriately empathetic (and appropriately laughed at me).

I started to mellow out and ate some birthday snicker doodles (thanks WEA). But then a creditor phoned my work line (seeking money I had already paid off), called me me a "smart ass," threatened to screw with my credit and hung up on me.

More crying.

Long story short, I managed to get the credit issue resolved after forking over $166 and Nate at Advanced Wireless Solutions in Portland was able to get my phone back to 90% working order for a mere $40. And I took many deep, cleansing breaths.

Guess my money-saving venture hit a snag. But I'm happy to report I'm still not smoking (so yay me!). That jerk Nicotine can shove me around all he wants. He can tick me off or make me cry, but he's not going to boss me around any more.

Eventually he'll get bored and leave me alone. Until then, I'll keep the tissues handy.

We can talk about turning 30 on Monday, when I'm further along in the detox process (and hopefully more emotionally stable).