I used to imagine that quitting smoking was like fighting a beast. It was a tough fight, but once the beast is dead; the beast is dead.
I no longer think that's an apt analogy. I think smoking is more like getting rid of cockroaches. You have to really WORK to get rid of cockroaches. You can't just spray some chemicals and BOOM, they're gone. You have to make sure your house is spotless so they don't have a food source. You have to make sure you don't have an plumbing drips, or dampness in the house. You have to make lifestyle changes so you never leave a dirty plate in the sink. And STILL, some night you'll creep out to the kitchen for a snack, throw on the lights, and see the scurrying little nasties run for cover.
That's my stage of quit. I have made the lifestyle changes and bombed the house and now I'm slogging through the maintenance. Not complaining, mind you; I just mulling over my quit on the drive to work (whilst remaining smoke free), and this popped into my head.