Five-a-day Gideon

1. I made a bargain with God.
2. I really like my cigarettes. I really like my quiet evening smoke, looking up at the stars, thinking poetic. I bloody love that flashing tobacco surge after a Saturday afternoon barista shift. Thoughts usually along the lines of I’m young, I’ll give up in a year and won’t die of cancer. Impulsive; weak; dopey.
3. I accidentally bought a lottery ticket with my cigarettes. I said ‘lighter,’ she heard ‘lotto.’ After nearly two years in Canada I’m aware that unless I consciously enunciate my grumbling, mumbling Welsh accent it can be difficult to follow here. It was an extra ten dollars, but I went for it. Walking to the gas station I’d been thinking about a second job, making more money — why not go for it? (Like I said, impulsive and dopey.)
4. I told my housemates I’d buy the dreamed-of homestead. Cars for us all. Gifts of money. Student debts paid off. The usual nonsense, and they didn’t indulge.
5. I am prone to optimism and excitement and sometimes saying things I don’t really mean or think through (see 6.).
6. God, if I win the lottery then I’ll give up smoking.
7. And, a few days later, I did win. One dollar.
8. But that’s not what I meant.
9. ‘You won, Al,’ she said. ‘How is this not winning?’
10. I shall never forget what this realisation felt like. I’m down to three-a-day; next week, two; week after, one. The whole episode is an exercise in easy blasphemy. Relearning things like accountability. Relearning to listen to myself and mean what I say (the killer point: why wasn’t this the standard?). Not continuing to do stuff that is definitely killing you. In 2003 my granddad died of lung cancer eight months after being diagnosed, so it’s not like I don’t know what this will end up like for those who love the smoker.
11. I’m learning to love drinking decaf tea under the stars.