Today is smoke-free day 227, and I'm warm and dry.
We've been flirting with just enough snow to screw up traffic but not quite enough to have a snow day (yes, I'm 7 years old like that) for most of the week so far. This morning it was a pile of slush all over everything, but it was pretty in areas on the grass where it looked like just snow. I do know that it's been chilly out there. And I do wish we'd get the 2-3 inches it takes here just have a damn snow day (growing up in Chicago I understand that's not really much snow, but there they are flatter and more prepared, and here we have hills/mountains and rarely any snow).
Because of the smoking policy at our current apartment complex, I've expressed my gratitude often that I no longer smoke (in some but not all of these posts, if you are curious) because I don't really do cold so well. While I didn't mind stepping out onto the balcony to do a 3 minute smoke (the double drag quick puffs version of poison therapy) with a coat thrown over my Hello Kitty pajamas or what have you on any given winter night, the thought of having to actually get dressed (Tom doesn't allow me to wear 80's style shoulder pads or my pajamas in public, thankfully) and walk however many feet away from the building would have just been too much effort and would have taken too long. I could have been almost done smoking on my balcony in the amount of time it took to get dressed and walk that far into a cold and wet and slushy night.
There is this one girl, though, that I see out there a lot, bundled up under the carports puffing away like so many of the other smokers in my apartment complex. Tom and I have both noticed that she really does look very, very much like me. I noticed that she even paces the way I used to when I would smoke alone outside at work or somewhere other than my balcony. It's almost kind of eerie, like a different kind of mirror reflecting what I would be doing if not for the whole Chantix and quitting smoking thing.
Warm and dry is so much more appealing to me than it is to my dedicated twin. Well, that or she's just the same nicotine junkie as I was last winter but with stricter apartment rules. I would be doing the very same thing if I was still smoking. Not having slush seeping into my shoes or poison flowing through my lungs are happy, happy things.