When I used to work for Wal-Mart, I was smoking a pack and a half a day, if not more. But since I quit and moved from Minnesota to California, I've cut down. My boyfriend hates that I smoke, and he wishes I'd quit. But I"ve told him a thousand times, I'll quit when I want to, and frankly... I don't want to. I'm nice enough and I smoke outside, got a nice big pile of butts next to my chair out on the porch, but Mia hit on my perfect smoking moments, sitting at the computer. Except then the ashes get all over the mouse and the keyboard. That sucks.