On this auspicious occasion of it being two years since I ceased smoking tobacco*

I understand there are more important concerns in the world right now. I am learning and writing about how I’ve stumbled about and how others just took large dumps on the discourse. This post isn’t about that. This post is for me and it does what it says on the label.

I took to Facebook this morning knowing that last year’s post for my one-year anniversary would be highlighted under Memories. I appreciate that Facebook has become the archivist of my entire life. It is the archivist for you as well. For the whole world. For everyone. What Facebook says happened, happened.

And, just like last year, I went off on a rant about the evils of Facebook and how we’ve all sold our narratives into some algorithmic carnival to sell us hand-stitched face masks, sustainably-sourced coffee, and those weird bendy shoes that repel water.

Actually, I don’t really know what Facebook is selling you. Oh but they ARE selling YOU!

Oops, I did it again.

Like I mentioned in the last year’s post, I didn’t quit smoking. I’m a smoker who doesn’t smoke. And it does work for me. After several family health scares, a house fire, and the first half of 2020, I haven’t had one cigarette. Not a puff, not a drag, not a whiff. Zero.

But I will. I will somewhere down the road if the winds of life allow me that chance. I will. I will probably never be a habitual smoker again, but I will smoke. I will take pleasure in sliding my fingers down the paper, straightening out any wrinkles in the wrapping, feeling the firmness of the filter in that fleshy part between my fingers, the spongy sensation of it pressing down on my bottom lip as I secure it in my mouth, the raspy click (or click, click, click) of my lighter and the teeny heat it brings like an atomic sun. That first drag will be indescribable.

But that’s in the future. It’s been two years since I’ve had a cigarette and with life throwing me all these mini-boss battles, I certainly hope I make it to three.

God help me if I’m in the Water Temple.

 

 

 

 

*There’s nothing to see here. I just felt that ending the title at “smoking” had poor rhythm. I haven’t smoked anything in two years, so you can stop smirking now.

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