Week 1 in review

I've decided, for the time being at least, that this record should include a weekly review summarizing my progress, or regress as the case may be. Though I'll aim for brevity in these weekly reports, you may want to prepare yourself for the opposite, as I'm sure you've already noticed great swaths of clever internal monologue externalized on these pages.

Day 1
I make rash agreement with co-worker to attemp to quit smoking. I consent to keep a blog detailing this undertaking. I smoke more than a pack that day. A nervous flutter spends its day in my gut, doing strange, cruel things.

Day 2
I smoke 27 cigarettes on the second day of my quest. That's twice now that I've smoked more than a pack in a day. This is more than I smoked before I decided to quit. Stated goal appears to be having opposite effect. In my defence, it was friend Steve's birthday. Ensuing party conflicts with objective.

Day 3
Slight success. I break the under-a-pack mark and smoke 16 cigarettes. I experience no feeling of achievement.

Day 4
My wife Donna discovers the plan. She does this honestly, led to my blogs by my own desire to have her read them and tell me what a fantastic scribe I am. She expresses surprise but does not mention task again.

Spend early evening, all night and wee hours of the morning on patio of local pub owned by friend Pete. Patio not subject to citywide smoking ban. I smoke close to 2 packs in this span, although exact count impossible to note because drunk friend Dermot, who I haven't seen in several years, appears on patio waxing nostalgic. Dermot believes in smoking but not in purchasing his own. Proceeds to help himself throughout evening.

Day 5
On Sunday, likely spurred more by a cigarette hangover than by actual force of will, I have only six cigarettes. I do not get overly excited. With my own birthday in a couple of days, that of friend Dwight on Friday and a barbecue at my house on Saturday, it's probable that I will falter and stumble several more times before I can make a concerted effort. Some may call these events an excuse, I simply wish to enjoy these celebrations with my friends without being labelled "that miserable bastard in the corner."