Today is Smoke-free Day 179.
I had a good cry last night (gawd, I do sound like a girl) because my good Tom let me pound on his chest like a toddler and have a little tantrum about things out of my control on a day that had me just angry to the point of tears and seething (livid, irate, enraged, furious and incensed are probably more accurate - anger synonyms also happen to be my personal favorites, personally). I haven't been quite that outraged since I quit smoking, and at one point the thought of smoking at the offending party didn't sound all bad.
You know, get really pissed off and use it as an excuse to smoke, as if it even matters at all (doesn't) to the person that's supposedly the object of your vengeful smoking (who we'll call the smokee)? From past experience, the smokee that gets smoked at doesn't care, and the smoker that smoked at the smokee is just left minus $5 (give or take) and with a couple lungs full of re-gunked cilia, a sense of failure and still madder than a hornet. Similar types of not so great results with eating at, drinking at or doing other stuff at people in anger, I hear.
So, nope, I'll not be smoking at anyone. I do, however, reserve the right to be irate. Thankfully, I woke up not wanting to bother doing that, either, so my spirits are in decent shape, I regret nothing and my lungs are loving me big time. Not smoking at someone who "deserved" it paid off for me, and that's what matters.