Making a virture out of a vice

I hadn't started the day wanting to quit smoking. I'd started the day pretty much like most days. I got up early, had coffee and cigarettes for breakfast, and went to work. The only difference was that I had a sore throat.
Some time around noon on that day, 24 years ago, I had my last cigarette. I didn't even think of it as my last. I can't even remember thinking about it all. I just wanted to complain.
I wanted to complain about my sore throat to my wife, to my co-workers, to someone, anyone, and knew that if, I did, they wouldn't have to say anything. I knew that they knew that, no matter the cause, my sore throat was being made worse by cigarettes and that I should stop smoking.
So, not thinking about that last cigarette, I didn't have the next one.
By five o'clock, I figured I'd earned a right to complain a little bit. I complained and then quickly added that I'd not had a cigarette since noon.
By bedtime, I said, "Hey, I haven't a cigarette since noon. Not bad."
The next morning, well, you get the idea.
So, with no particular virture and propelled mostly by the desire to kvetch, I haven't had that next cigarette.

Funny, isn't it, that folks who never smoked never got the praises accorded to someone stopped. Greater accolades come to those who stop doing what they shouldn't have been doing in the first place. How fair is that?