Well, I have looked at the weather and decided I am no longer going to stand in the cold with the outcasts, puffing on our sticks and pretending we find the miniature summer house with hard seats charming.
I am going to try and quit smoking. Try. It's not that I don't want to because I do. Fag ash Lil is so last year.
Of course, a sure fire way to bash the ash would be to get pregnant again, as I have always given up instantly I know there is a baby brewing in the pot.
However, the thought of changing nappies and breastfeeding again only serves to have me begging for a pack of 20 and a vodka to go.
So I have bought an electronic cigarette. Yes, I know. Shh.
It's looking at me now from the bedside cabinet, winking at me as it straightens its tie and strikes a pose.
I have read the instructions carefully and believe I am sucking correcting to the full benefit of both of us, my nicotine habit and it's battery life.
But it is a learning curve.
I sit here chewing furiously on a piece of normal minty gum in the hope it will distract me from the fact. And the fact is, I really want a cigarette.
I may mention this again, in say three months, but this isn't a 'let's give up smoking, sing songs and hold hands' blog, its merely a warning my nerves have been hacked and I could go a little crazy over the next few days.
Do you know, it MIGHT be easier to go for the pregnancy option, fed up with this gum chewing already!