Check me out
New Year’s Day. And with a nod of the head and a crack of the knuckles, I stopped smoking. It helps that I’ve had a cold, but I smoked through tonsilitis in my smoking heyday, if one can have a heyday so idiotically detrimental to one’s health, so this isn’t as big a factor as you might think. My wife remains, and who can blame her, sceptical: she’s heard all this before. I have tried to impress on her the difference between swearing on your unborn child’s life that you will stop smoking without any real intention of doing so, and the approach I’ve taken here and she isn’t, you know, appreciative of the nuance. And I guess one lie does end up resembling the next. But the logic to me seems strong and fairly obvious. It’s one thing to make a promise, in public, cornered, over dinner, and then cheerfully renege on it the next day, when no one’s looking, but when it’s just you in the room, and you’re listening to the crap sound your own air is making as it moves through your bronchial tubes, and you think of all the hassles and impracticalities smoking entails, the amount of chewing gum and after shave you’re getting though, the sheer tedium of freshening up all the time, you wonder what exactly you are doing this for. What a carry on! And for what? And the stakes, the stakes! So, you know: enough. A week ago, if you’d sprung this on me, I’d be going beserk within the hour. But I’ve got my mindset right. And really, no matter what people say, it isn’t so bad.