The 100th Realization

As my man, Mr. Cigarette and I made our way out to the Gazebo, I became slightly disgusted by the feel of him between my index and middle finger. What used to be a comfort has now become a pain. But, like the wife who tolerates the husband who has nothing romantic to say in the morning over coffee, I lit my Mr. Cigarette and began the ritual of puff, inhale, hold, exhale, and of course deep coughs in between. Finally, the routine ends and I am left feeling slightly content yet sad. The 100th realization that I am making the right decision to let him go after all this time hits me like brick up side my head. OUCH!!! But, three days till I sign those divorce papers and then maybe just maybe I will have a life that I was always intended to have....