Well, at last I’m back at work, and I’m actually glad to be here. It’s difficult to live a life of leisure when you know work is waiting for you, and it’s only getting worse the longer you’re gone.
The title of this post refers to the number of days I have gone without sweet, life-giving nicotine. By now I’ve finished with the screaming, nerve-shredding black days of hate, and have moved into more gentle feelings of deep, profound loss. Progress, eh? All I know is that if they announced tomorrow that a pill had been invented to neutralize all the ill effects of smoking, I’d buy a carton about 2 minutes later. Dear god, please let that happen.