I decided last weekend to do something special for myself when Tuesday rolled around, my one year anniversary as a staff writer here at The Evening Sun. I didn’t take myself out for a special lunch or dinner, didn’t visit the book store for a new novel to immerse myself in or buy myself that new guitar which I really don’t need (but would love to have anyway). No, I finally came to the realization that it was time – and past time – for me to quit that inherently evil, dastardly habit of smoking.

I’ll be honest, I’ve been promising myself (and others) for quite some time now that I should finally quit, actually since my thirtieth birthday nearly four years ago. Yet, for some reason or another, it just never stuck. I’ve been smoking (at least) a pack of cigarettes a day for almost 16 years now and, even though I’ve always known the stupidity of this particularly nasty habit, I simply couldn’t summon up the willpower to drop it for good. This time around (like so many others in the past) it came down to two factors – the damn things are far too expensive, especially in New York State, and I’m tired of paying that much money for something that is slowly killing me.