No. I don't want a cigarette.

Three more days and I can have my much anticipated bubble bath. I've laid it down: I get to take a bubble bath after I've made it a week. And if I cave, that just means I have to start the 7 days all over again & I'm right back where I started.
It's like a mosquite bite. From time to time the itching becomes unbearable, but if I itch it, it'll only make it worse. And of course, when it came to mosquito bites, my mother'd always said: Ignore the itching. We were strictly forbidden to scratch a mosquito bite. If she saw us scratching around it, even, she'd go for the aloe.
HOWEVER---
Knowing what I know now about wild medicinals, I'd go looking for plantain for my bug bites.

ANYway.. I'm getting away from the heart of this issue: My addiction to cigarettes is like a mosquito bite. Only, I don't have any plantain. So I have to grin & bear it.
And when my desire for a cigarette is at its strongest, I find myself saying out loud: "No, I don't want a cigarette. I don't need it."
It reminds me Seinfeld: When George's father was shouting "SERENITY NOW!"

I've heard so many different bits of info about how many days before the worst of it's over. Kyle the Brainiac Boy Wonder says four days. I'm on the tail end of day 4 and I'd like to beg to differ. Although it would be nice to miraculously wake up tomorrow morning and not care at all about having a cigarette and be totally at peace. My mother says if it takes 21 days to create a habit(based on the old wives' tale) then it should take 21 days to get rid of it. This sounded a little too 'neat' to me... And as Jim pointed out: "Your mom's never smoked before, so how does she know?" I've also heard that it's the first month that's the worst. Ida know.

All I know is that today Jim was looking for eye-screws and I'm frantically looking all over... pulling drawers, scanning them desperately thinking "Oh God, I hope I find some. I wanna be smart, I wanna be good, I wanna be helpful.-- Wait! What the hell do eye-screws look like?" And being on the verge of tears because I couldn't find an eye-screw. Then I stopped. Took a deep breath. I don't want a cigarette. I'm fine. Sometimes I feel like I'm 'PMSing'. Wigging out over some little thing.... etc. And the inexplicable cravings. Wanting something to chew on.

Chewing gum has become an almost cliche device for people who're quitting. When I started this, it wasn't supposed to be an ordeal. It started with 100% confidence that all I needed to do is make up mind I could do it. Jim said the sound of my coughing concerned him. And well, I'll admit I don't care for the pain in my chest after a morning coughing fit.

The other motive came from a specific moment in time. ->
Jim and I were curled up on the sofabed, wrapped up in a bedroll.(sort of an xtra wide sleeping bag.) I was on the inside and the only way out was if Jim got out and let me out. I wanted a cigarette. The pack beside the bed was empty. Jim pointed to a new pack on the other side of the room that I couldn't get to without getting out of bed. As I said, he was on the outside, keeping me in bed. I made a motion towards the new pack and Jim simply rolled over towards me, put his arms around me, nestled his face into my neck and said: "Besides, you're quitting anyway."
Something in the gesture and how he said it. It struck me. His tone suggested that I didn't need cigarettes. It was like he had such faith in me-- that I could give them up and I'd be better for it. I replay the confidence and tenderness of that moment in my mind from time to time to remind myself why I'm doing this. And the optimist in me says when I've tackled the beast, I can help Jim do the same.