I quit smoking cigarettes last Monday. Good decision, right? Healthy, smart, better for me in the long run. Plus my car smells like smoke, and my coat smells like smoke (and wet dog but that’s a different story). I don’t want to smell bad, right? No problem.
But really, the reason I did has more to do with the best friend I am in love with. He doesn’t like smokers. And if we’re going to get married and have eight kids and dance the funky chicken at our 50th wedding anniversary, I should quit smoking, right? Makes sense.
So Sunday, I took my pack of cigarettes (18 left…my god!) and cracked the pack in half, emptied my ash tray, and threw it all in the trash. Great. Excellent.
It was until Wednesday that I started having illicit thoughts about cigarettes. God, to have one in my mouth…how beautiful. I had no money because I didn’t get paid until today, but I thought I could easily pick up a hitchhiker and have them pay me with smokes. I don’t even care if they’re menthol. Just one ciagrette. We all die eventually, right? Sure thing, might as well die smoking. It would certainly be worth it!
I made it through Wednesday and was feeling good. No smoking, great, smart decision. But then I was just sitting here at my computer, not smoking, reading a thread. And my brother came in to grab a CD really quick, and he had a cigarette dangling from his lips. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Screw the Mona Lisa, forget Guernica, that cigarette rivaled the Sistine Chapel. So I begged and pleaded, had to explain that the reason I didn’t have one for him last week was because I quit smoking. Ten minutes later he gives me one, and it’s menthol! Holy God! All I could think was, must smoke, must smoke NOW!
So I run upstairs to the sun porch to smoke it, since my mom won’t let me smoke in the house. It’s four degrees out there, no problem, I’m smoking! Woo hoo! But my dogs had followed me out, and before I could even look for a lighter they started whining to be let out. So I take them out, and it’s raining, so I start getting wet, but it’s all for the cigarette, right? Yeah! Two minutes into the ordeal, I plaster my face to the window and just stare at that ciagrette on the table, ten feet away, and think about having it in my mouth, taking that first minty fresh inhalation…in a few minutes. Just a few minutes.
I come to consciousness three minutes later and call the dogs. Unfortunately, they realized I wasn’t paying attention and took off. So I run off the porch in the pouring rain, clad only in socks, pajama bottoms, and a t shirt, and start screaming for them. I run around the front of the house, calling for them, run into the neighbor’s yard, just thinking about smoking that wonderful ciagrette. I find them on the other side of my court and get them in the house. Finally!
I grab a pack of matches and start lighting one. It immediately flickers out. The next ten do the same thing. Great, I have a lighter in my bedroom for candles! I run inside and search all over my room, but cannot find it. I turn my room upside down, but it’s just not there. I start looking under my bed and dig through twenty years worth of books, clothes, paints, and more books, and finally find it - looking like an angel sent from heaven. So I dash out to the sun porch and try to light my cigarette again. It won’t work! It’s out of fluid! I go through ten more matches, all of them flicker and die (is there a breeze in here? I think). So I dash back to my room, grab my car keys, and hightail it for my car. But the neighbor’s had company and I had to park half a block away. I dash through the rain and get in my car, soaking wet and shaking, and dig around for my lighter. Then I remember that two days ago I had cleaned out my car and tossed the lighter in the trash.
I run back inside and start digging through the garbage can in the kitchen. Sure enough, at the bottom is my trash bag from two days ago, and I tear that apart and find the lighter. So I run to the sun porch…there’s that ciagrette, just sitting there, looking like heaven, like the freaking Last Supper. So I put it in my mouth (yes! yes!) and light up. I somehow managed to burn my right thumbnail, but didn’t care. Finally it was in my mouth.
Ahhhhh. Like a first kiss, like a long cool drink of water on a hot summer day, like the smell of clean babies. Hallelujah!
I sat there shivering, wet, and puffed away on that bad boy right down to the filter and then some. Didn’t care - I could barely hold it in my hand, but I couldn’t stop! It was so perfect, so refreshing, so incredibly awe-inspiring! Yes! Yes! Give me more!
Now I am sitting here with stinky breath, soaking wet, cold and shaking, and my fingers smell bad. Plus my right thumbnail is black. I am running late. I am so happy right now I could run naked through the streets in rapture.
Yes, my friends, I think I have a problem.