ROTR

I don't count every few days anymore, but I'm still counting.

My body has now been tobacco-free for 367 days!

That is to say, the only tobacco smoke that has entered my lungs during those 367 days has been second-hand smoke during brief encounters with smokers where it's wasn't convenient for me to move somewhere else.

It's been 57 days since tobacco smoke touched my lungs due to a personal act of smoking. My close friend wickwire, who also wants to quit but hasn't yet (I wholly and completely understand that predicament!) has been very supportive in that he no longer smokes near me, unless I make my own decision to, e.g. if I follow him outside at the office to yak with him about something.

Perhaps as a way of commemorating the nearly-two-month anniversary, here is a partial recount of a dream that I had just before I woke up this morning:

I was in some sort of room. Very open, loungy. My mom was in there with us, but I don't remember exactly who else was in the room other than me and her. There were others though, I know that.

Somehow, my mom came upon a carton of Winstons and, quite out of character, opened a pack and offered me a cigarette. I took it, put it in my mouth, lit up, and took a few drags.

I then realized what I had done -- I reset my counter! I threw the cigarette to the floor, smashed it with my foot, and in a fury of rage took the carton, smashed it against the wall, stomped on it with my foot, and made a great effort to ensure the non-usability of all of the other cigarettes contained therein.

Onlookers were shocked. I was sad. Not just sad, but crying. I was furious with myself for having made so much progress and then having it shatter before my eyes.

I think some of that crying transferred to the physical realm, because I woke up shortly after and it felt like I had been whimpering. Thankfully, no-one else woke up.

Perhaps more thankfully, I am able to compose this and proudly say that my counter as not been reset. :)