I started smoking again. I lasted 1yr, 5mos, and 27 days (7mos of that was my pregnancy with the twins, which is why I quit in the first place). Now, I admit I did have the occassional “social” cigarette. But those don’t count. Why am I smoking again? I discovered that the 4 and a half minutes it takes to smoke a cigarette is 4 and a half minutes that I have to myself. I get to sit in my own little corner of the porch and dwell in the bliss that is nothingness. It’s an escape. It’s a break. It’s freedom. The milkwell that once filled my breasts has about run dry. The twins only nurse once or twice in the night. I say this to ease my guilt. To make less of my failure. Dave says, “I can’t believe you went all that time and now you’ve ruined it.” Don’t put my name back on the smokers club list yet. Part of me believes this is only temporary. Especially when it get’s cold again. I had fun being a non-smoker and looking out the window at my smoker husband freezing his ass off for 4 and a half minutes just to get his fix. I won’t be the one in the cold, standing there in my pajama pants, winter coat, boots and fingerless gloves. I don’t want to be that person again.

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