Day 7
The brink of insanity.
Outside for some fresh air, I conversate (as J. Simpson would say) with some co-workers and former smoking buddies.
Accountability, I’ve learned is key. So is abject paranoia. My strategy is to announce my intention to quit smoking so that their encouragement/judgement of my intentions are transparent. If my personal will power cannot appropriately nudge me into quitting, then my vanity and hubris at the notion of failing in front of my peers, surely will.
To my non-smoker friends, I tell them that I need to hang with them more often while I get over this hump. I humbly request their patience for any mild or slight hyper sensitivity or irritability.
To my smoker friends I blurt out “DON’T GIVE ME A CIGARETTE OR I’LL PUNCH YOU!â€
In one situation, Smokey responded with a distinctly arched eyebrow as he tapped out a cigarette from a softpack of Camel Light’s.
“I’m quitting! I’m on day seven!â€
He congratulated me and immediately patted down his chest and pockets for a lighter.
“I MEAN IT. I’LL PUNCH YOU REALLY, REALLY HARD! KICK YOU TOO!â€
He lights up his cigarette, smiles wanly, and inhales with smug relish.
“I AM SO FRICKING SERIOUS. DON’T DO IT!â€
“Smokey†responds “So if you’re going nuts and start pummeling me and demanding me for a cigarette, am I supposed to give it to you or no?â€
â€NO, DEFINITELY NO!â€
“You know you’re kind of nuts, right?â€
“HAVE A FRICKING ORIGINAL OPINION. WHY DOES EVERY MAN WHO CROSSES MY PATH SAY THE SAME FUCKING THING?! WHY! WHY GAWD WHY!!!â€
(Curious. Why is everyone backing away slowly from me?)

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