Happy Anniversary.

On Saturday--in just a couple of hours--it will be the 4-week anniversary of my quitting smoking. (Notice that I'm counting in weeks rather than months. I quit smoking on Oct. 23, so it won't be a full month until November 23.) I have to say, too, that I'm doing pretty well. In the entire 4 weeks, I only slipped up once--and that was last Wednesday, the day I both went to court for my "financial issues" and Jeff and I had a particularly heinous fight. All in all, it was a pretty rough day. I actually bought a pack that day, but I only smoked about 6 of them before I tossed the pack out. So I'm actually pretty proud of myself--this is the longest I've gone in quite some time and with the fewest slip-ups (by far). (My record for quitting was set in my junior year of college, when I lasted about 2 months--until finals hit, that is.)

November 23 is special for another reason, too. It's Jeff and my's six month anniversary. Six months. Half a year. Can you believe it? In a lot of ways, it seems so much longer than that. Right from our first date, I've felt so comfortable with him, so natural, so "settled," that I've had to keep reminding myself that we HAVEN'T been together forever. At the same time, though, part of me feels like--holy shit, six months ALREADY?

So here's to Jeff (a few days early) and here's to not smoking. (If I can make it through the end of this uber-stressful semester as a non-smoker, then I'm pretty sure I can make it through anything.)