The Heather Chronicles

I quit smoking a year ago January and made it six months before the alcohol smoking would start on occasion. I was able to maintain my "social smoker" status until I accepted my job in High Point, North Carolina. The only glory this town holds is that it's the Furniture Capital of the World, though the talk of the town is that Las Vegas is trying to steal our bi-annual International Furniture Market event. The thought of moving and leaving all my dear friends freaked me out. I was leaving Seattle, a land of great music, the arts, diversity, and open-mindedness for a small town in the South whose pride was a giant chair in neighboring Thomasville. This would cause a nun to start smoking.

I have had brief quit spells here on numerous occasions, but being in the land of tobacco, not far from the world empire of the tobacco industry, has it's drawbacks. You can smoke everywhere in this town. Restaurants, bars, and I've even busted the clerk at the Shell station on the corner smoking in there! You can't escape it, so it makes the chore to quit more difficult.

Then something happened two nights ago. Something that struck me like a thunder bolt, that showed me what my life would be like if I did not quit smoking.
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