Day 0: smoke the last cigarette in your pack. decide more or less spontaneously just not to buy any more. go about your life more or less normally.
Day 1: become mildly twitchy, but mostly okay. congratulate yourself on how well you are doing.
Day 2: snarl at anyone who breathes on you. attempt to choke anyone who actually speaks.
Day 3: neurotically chew nicotine gum, which for the record tastes like minty shoe rubber. call friend for moral support. run through all your cash taking cabs around the city in order to avoid walking past stores that will sell you cigarettes.
Day 4: go out for drinks after dinner to celebrate the new democratic house and senate majorities. fail to resist the lure of cigarettes; chain smoke 3/4 pack in a hipster karaoke bar.
Day 5: finish the pack.
Day 6: feel guilty, but now unsure why you should quit smoking because, after all, you are a grown-up, you know the consequences, and you can smoke if you want to. defiantly buy another pack; smoke three.
Day 7: feel guiltier, but don’t let it stop you from smoking half a pack.
Day 8: finish the pack. resolve again to not buy any more.
Day 9: sulk.
Day 10: continue sulking, at least until you go home from work and buy another pack. smoke four.
Day 11: go out drinking after work again. fail again to not chain-smoke in the bar. kill most of the rest of the pack.
Day 12: finish pack in the morning. resolve not to buy any more. mope the rest of the day.
Day 13: do a bunch of housecleaning to distract self from smoking. sequester all cigarette lighters into a tin. drink a bottle of wine and mourn its lack of firey accompaniment.
Day 14: do even more housecleaning. find some more nicotine gum; promptly misplace it. discover that another friend is attempting to quit. compare phraseology of respective “choke the living shit of everyone who gets within ten feet of me” sentiments. award points for creativity!
Day 15: sulk.