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Twenty years ago today, ten in the morning (it was a Saturday), I sat up in bed and lit up the last half of a cigarette I’d started the night before. And that was it – the last time tobacco passed my lips.

Welllll, not counting the second hand stuff. I’ve been known to sidle up to any sad group of outside smokers and sniff hard. That’s not cheating, right?

Unkle B quit about the same time and never looked back. Me, I miss it every day of my life. I take my vices very seriously. I would’ve liked to live out my life a smoker, and die young of something acute before the first soft tendrils of dementia enwrap my brain.

On the other hand, brand name smokes are approaching £9 a pack here. Given my 2.5 pack a day habit at the end, that would come to $33.75 a day. That would seriously cut into my smack habit.

May 17, 2017 — 8:09 pm
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