Here I am on my 83rd day thinking about something that happened just before I went to bed. I had been watching television. I shut it off and was heading to bed. Went into the kitchen not thinking about much, and suddenly put my hand into my pocket looking for a lighter, thinking that I would go out on my deck for my nightly cigarette--the one that said, "you have smoked about ten cigarettes today, and you are smoked out. But you have this urge and ritual to ha e that last one just before bed."
Had I some cigs in the house, I would have lit one up--you know, just one, and then I would have been hooked again. It's awful--here I am breathing better, not coughing at all, with a sort of healthy look, and a suspicion that at 79, I am going to live forever--and along comes still another pull that says falsely, that one won't kill me. Let me tell you, this is one horrendous addiction. It just never stops with the temptations. The mistake of course, is that I think I enjoyed smoking, and I probably did, in some capacity. the problem was that one or two cigs were enjoyable and the others weren't.
I'm hanging in there today--so far so good.
