It has been more than two and a half months since the last cigarette. More than that, I have forced Man to go out the house and smoke. And once, when I felt the urge, he offered to share, and the smoke sent me running back inside. Like with single malts in mid-30s, a mere whiff is enough to send me into the vapours now (really, you could tell I have been revisiting historical romances of my youth? May the world bless Archive.org, for I wouldn’t have spent so much on the shady-covered books and the closest library that has the treasure trove I had accessed in the distant past is not too close. Eloor, if you were wondering).
This is the first big win since leaving the Job.
Food is the true addiction for me then, which went for a toss on weekend breaks to Coorg and then to IKEA (I mean, hello, Paradise Biryani), and then Diwali hampers being sent left, right and centre. Salt. Sugar. Fat. Not necessarily in that order. And they are all welcome and will be always be BFFs (or RAKES 😁) who mothers (in Regency periods) warn you against.
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