42 Days

As of 6 p.m. tonight, it's been 6 weeks/42 days/1008 hours since I last had a cigarette. Actually, 1008 hours since I last so much as held a cigarette in my hands.

Which is something, considering that even in the 'breakthrough' quit of earlier this year I didn't go more than a week without stealing some 2nd hand smoke or bumming a drag from someone.

It's still hard, especially after a meal. As my wife says "it's the period at the end of my sentence" and its absence is felt.

On the other hand, I'm mildly confident. It is getting easier, and I've begun to think of cigarettes as a crazy lover you no longer see but occasionally miss. It's tempting to link up for a quick one, and lord know's you'd enjoy it - but in the end you say no, because it isn't worth dealing with all her psycho c*** later.

In other words, it isn't worth going through the agony of quitting again just for the sake of a cigarette.

I'm still eating too much to compensate, but that too is slowing down. Heck, I even ignored the desire to watch TV and instead hit the gym for a good 1/2 hour tonight.

Maybe there's hope for me yet.