I guess I'm doin it rong, because it's a week and a half in, and it's not really getting any easier. I'm surprised at how persistent this little addiction is. It's pissing me off that I can't just get over this already, and it makes me feel weak, and then I get angry. Arrrrgggghhh!
The one thing I really miss is having an ashtray around in which to deposit the crud I pick off the carpet. Oh, sweet Jeebus, I can't believe I just told you guys that, but you know what I'm talking about here, right? You're sitting there watching TV or whatever, and you look down and notice a little bit of fuzz or something on the carpet. I used to pick those up and put 'em in the ashtray, but now I have to cart them all. the. way. to the garbage can under the kitchen sink, which seems like waaaay too much trouble for a little piece of fuzz, and honestly? Sometimes the fuzz ends up in my pocket. Of course, god forbid I actually RUN THE VACUUM. (For one piece of fuzz? Seriously? Naaaahh.)
I don't think my boss wants me to quit. Twice now he's left a cigarette on my desk (which he NEVER did when I was smoking), and the other day, I had to go to the bank, and he asked me to stop at the smoke shop and pick him up a couple of packs. (To their credit, my co-workers actually burst out laughing when he had the nerve to pull that little gem.)
Since I quit, there are approximately 360 cigarettes out there right now that I would have smoked, but I haven't.
I. AM. TRYING. IS. HARD.