Thirteen years of coffee and commentary. Tridecaphobes, beware.


How I learned to stop smoking and love the bacon.


Three years ago this week I gave up cigarettes. I’d smoked for twenty-six years, so quitting was a pretty momentous event, and a challenge. Modern chemistry helped: I had pretty good luck with the drug Chantix — it only made me a little bit moody — but it rendered smoking a cigarette about as pleasurable as smoking a carrot. That was just the help I needed.

I’m told I should expect that I’ve added six months to my lifeline, so far. And quitting has saved me about ten thousand bucks for the 25,000 cigarettes I haven’t smoked. I’ve been able to up my fitness level in very spiffy ways: I’m running, bicycling and rowing my way to still better health, and I can do that because I can breathe.

There’s been a heap of other benefits, too. I like the fact that I no longer stink like a stale ashtray, I don’t need to invent reasons to take breaks in meetings, and I don’t get anxious if I’m running low on cigarettes. That sucked. A lot.

After three years, I feel pretty confident in saying cigarettes don’t own me any more. Now bacon… that’s another matter.

Author: deCadmus

Doug Cadmus is a usability guy, writer and sometime dramatist who moved to Vermont for the coffee, where he's the Web Guy for Green Mountain Coffee Roasters. When not writing, reading, or tapping out haiku-like Twitter posts, he roasts coffee in his garage.

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