Today is Smoke-free Day 122, with disclaimer because I'm a dork.
No secret, I live in Oregon. Nice to meet you. If anyone has ever lived in Oregon or heard of it (perhaps as Orygun, depending on where you live), you probably know that it rains here. A. Lot. And for a long time. From approximately late September until May (OK, not always quite until May), but it usually seems like more than those 7 or 8 months because it's not really very summer-like until after July 4th. It's like living in the dark most of the winter because even if it doesn't rain, the sun doesn't really come out, either. For those in the Portland, OR area, it's documented to be about 222 cloudy days per year (yep, about 7+ months, I was right). Then there's what I call "pissy drizzle" all day long, but no real actual accumulation of rain, endlessly falling just enough to make people crazy. Extreme Oregon weather nerds can read this essay all about it.
Even if my walking in the rain might require some adjustments on my part (saw a *super cute* raincoat for $20 that I might have to own with money saved not smoking, we'll see), I am so glad that this year I will not have to go stand in it getting wet like a complete nut while killing myself smoking (perhaps even nuttier than standing in the rain). I used to feel a sense of desperation during those rarer times when it would get raining harder with the wind going so that I'd actually have to postpone smoking. Gosh, those were miserable times. I really used to get a little bent out of shape and sort of nervous, wondering how long it would be until it died down just enough that I'd get a little wet, but wouldn't look like a total junkie willing to stand in a downpour (nope, somehow in my mind not as much of a junkie if standing and smoking in just the drizzle, I guess - I thought silly stuff as a smoker).
This year, as I look out at the clouds and rain and know that there are months and months and months ahead of me of more of the same after bloody and rainy same, I say bring it on. My dear mom (who I miss dearly) always used to tell me that I wasn't sugar and wouldn't melt in the rain, so I'm fine in that way, and now I won't have to worry about the rain extinguishing my poison on a stick, either, or hold my hand that certain way to prevent it while making my hand smell like, well, butt.
Chantix kicking off their commercial around this time of year was even more genius than I thought.