The husband has been off cigarettes for the last nine days. Huzzah!

During the past week acquaintances have told me that I look very well; "you're glowing!" Possibly the effect of the good weather. Or the valerian I'm taking, which at 20 drops makes me feel quite stoned (do not operate complicated machinery after intake, apparently), and at 10 drops, tranquil, slow-moving, and pleasantly immune to most annoyances (the grumpy husband being one of them). Or the fewer cigarettes I'm smoking, sneaking them whenever the husband or mother-in-law are away.

Anyways, I smoked my last cigarette today, on this summer solstice. I've smoked for the past three years; I started the year between my dad's death and the father-in-law's death. The last bit of my stash is gone, huffed away under a waxing moon, and I'm quitting at last ... Well, fingers crossed!

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