and it immediately found its home between my fingers. Like riding a bike, it felt like yesterday. Like an old tool feels right at home. Like walking is natural...
I flicked out the remnants of the butt, the tobacco dregs, and put it in my pocket. Like I always did back in the days when I was a smoker. Those days seem a millenia and a second away.
I always was (still am) irritated at those smokers that flip their butts out the window as if the rest of the world is their ashtray. I found this butt out in the middle of the woods on a hike. That ticked me off a bit too, honestly. That someone is out enjoying nature and simultaneously and conscientiously polluting her. But I digress.
Anyway, I had zero, zip, nada, absolutely no urge to light that little bit up for a fix. But I did have a flashback to one of my first experiences as a beginner smoker: When I was 10 or 11 in a neighbor kid's backyard, I picked up a butt one of his parents must have tossed in the lawn and lit it (I was a bit of a pyro back then and had some matches in my grubby little hands - tangentially, I'm considering a career swap into firefighting currently). The first of the many bad choices each cigarette thereafter was.
There is life after smoking. Do you want it?
keep fightin' the good fight - fish :)
[B]My Milage:[/B]
[B]My Quit Date: [/B] 12/21/2005
[B]Smoke-Free Days:[/B] 407
[B]Cigarettes Not Smoked:[/B] 12,230
[B]Amount Saved:[/B] $2035
[B]Life Gained:[/B]
[B]Days:[/B] 54 [B]Hrs:[/B] 0 [B]Mins:[/B] 47 [B]Seconds:[/B] 38
