so, i managed to do some laundry, cooking & washing up. i even manged to accomplish showering; but, as for dressing, i never got past wearing my cute little crushed velvet chemise. i haven’t gone any further outside than my balcony, where i sat in the sunshine and read for two hours. that was after watching the stepford wives (i’d never seen it all the way through). i feel like i haven’t had a proper meal, but i know i’ve had a lot of snacks during the day. i just can’t seem to recall what they were.
other than the book i’m reading (xenocide by orson scott card, if you must know), the one thing which has occupying my thoughts today is smoking. you see, no matter how much i like to kid myself by saying i’m only a social smoker, i’m not. i’m a smoker. eighty-percent of the time i love smoking. i don’t smoke a pack a day. i don’t even smoke half a pack a day (unless i’m out with meg & mark). but, i do, indeed, smoke.
why has smoking been on my mind so much today? because i couldn’t. you see, when i signed my rental agreement, i told the landlords i didn’t smoke. so, i’ve never smoked inside my apartment. but, about six months after i moved in, i started sneaking smokes out on the balcony, after dark, when no neighbours would see me and report me to my big, bad, german landlords. i’m still paranoid about it, although i’ve decided that if they ever confront me, i’ll tell them i picked up the habit again *after* i moved in and assure them that i’ve never smoked inside.
regardless of background, today was beautiful day, all my neighbours had their balcony doors & windows open and the people in the house next door had a yard full of kids running around and i just felt too chicken to sit out there and smoke boldly. all day, i’ve been gauging the risk of discovery against my need for nicotine. except for a power smoke while hiding behind my balcony door at nine this morning, i’ve been withholding the carcinogenic pleasure of a cigarette (i wish this power of will could be used for other things i wish to abstain from in life).
i bother you with all this because, just as i was about to step out there and puff happily away, my upstairs neighbour came home and opened up all her doors & windows. fuck! now i have to keep waiting. i’m so very close to saying “fuck it” and lighting up. right here. at my desk. but, i won’t. i’m good. i always do the right thing, even when it goes against every desire i have.
where’s the freaking gum? *twitch*
Ooh, that sucks. I had half a cigarette yesterday afternoon (the first since September) and it was awful. Thank goodness.
The more you can’t have one the more you want one. That’s the way it always is!
*lights one up*
Wow, non-smoking apartments. If that’s going to be the way it is, I am SO glad the next place we move into is our own HOUSE. To hell with that.
I have cigarette cravings and I’ve never even smoked a cigarette in my life. Does that make me weird?
unequivocably: yes.
I blame it on my mom. She smoked from the time I was in the womb until I was 10. I’m like a crack-baby, but with cigarettes.
whole family smoked while i was growing up. oddly, i used to violently complain about smoke in the car or around me.
but, to think about it, i’m a hypocritical smoker. i hate smoke in my face or in enclosed spaces (car).