So I'm sitting here watching the "Golden Globes". I'm not sure why. A part of me thinks that this might be a much better way to do the awards...the other part of me misses the glitz and the glam.
I went for thirteen days (actually 12 days, 19 hours, 11 minutes and 34 seconds, according to my quitplan tracker) without even one drag off of a cigarette. Then I decided to take a trip back through memory lane via email folders and went back to a message I sent Greg two years ago tonight. Nothing special, just a report on how conferences went (actually, *after* conferences, with the drinking and the singing and the drinking and the singing) and I grabbed a smoke. Just like that. Because yes, I still have half a pack stashed away. It's part of my quitting plan. And it's working, see, because I had three drags off the thing and then tossed it. I didn't go out and buy a whole pack and then carry the obligation of needing to smoke the whole damn thing and then stop smoking after that.
I think slip-ups will occur from time to time. I'm not going to kill myself over it--most of the smoking I did in the last two years was either with Greg or because of him, so it's pretty natural that an email communication would draw it out of me.
I start biology in nineteen hours and fifteen minutes. See the new blog (Death Becomes Her) for frequent updates on all of my mania in that department.
And hey, guess what? The Packers are going to play at home next weekend! No silly Dallas curse, no "Brett has never won in Dallas," absolutely none of it.