I slipped up the other day. After a month and a half, 45 days, a really freakin' long time, I smoked a cigarette. God, it tasted good.
I don't know why I smoked it but I'll try and list some lame excuses why I did and why I've continued to sneak a couple for the last few days.
First, it's those darn single packaged cigarettes available now. The stigma of buying a whole pack of cigarettes after you've quit for a while is gone. Now it's easy to just sneak one or two without buying a whole pack. Those tobacco execs are smart, and evil.
Another excuse I'll use is anger. It makes me angry my barbecue was stolen from my front porch over the Memorial Day weekend. The culprits even took my lighter fluid. It was enough for me to want to smoke a cigarette but I didn't, instead the wanting built.
It's not a big deal about the barbecue. It only cost about $10. It's the point that someone walked up to my house when my wife and I were gone and stole it. That irks me.
Sadness plays a part, too. My cat Franklin, who was named after one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs, is not long for this world I found out recently. I've had him for 11 years and his kidneys are starting to fail him. I've had to visit the vet a few times, which can empty the pocket pretty quickly. My wife and I have to give him fluids under his skin twice a day, which isn't fun. Our biggest concern is just making his last days as comfortable as possible.
Oh, and that crazy woman Ann Coulter is enough to make anyone want a cigarette. Coulter and Omarosa get too much press. Add Paris Hilton is that mix. too.
All these things probably contributed to my recent relapse. Or at least that's what I'll use as excuses when my wife asks me about it.
I am going to try and quit again. Tomorrow I think. I saw a barbecue at Wal-Mart I liked and it's only $9. That will make me forget about the one that was stolen. I'll have to put it somewhere though, I guess in the empty laundry room.
Franklin has shown some signs of improvement recently. He's eating now, which is pretty important. I guess I can also stay away from the convenience stores that sell the individual cigarettes.
With some help (like not seeing Coulter, Hilton or that freak Omarosa), maybe Tobacco Road will dry up and I'll be able to gain my footing as I walk down that troubled way.