REPOST~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I didn’t have any excuse to smoke
From Mamzer on 6/10/2003 6:52:22 PM
I got up late this morning because the alarm didn’t wake me. Well if reality were known I most likely shut it off and went back to sleep. I had 15 minutes to get ready for work. I ran to the coffee pot, it has a timer, wife made the coffee last night. Looked at the pot, no coffee made, the timer was set to PM instead of AM. Turned on the coffee pot and headed for the shower.
Not much time so I jumped in the shower, soaped down, got shampoo in my hair, some in my eyes too, and the hot water was gone. Oh great, I forgot to turn up the water heater after turned it down to replace the valve that blew out and flooded the hallway last night. So after rinsing the soap off with cold water, I reached for a towel, oh no, I used all of them to dry up the water in the hallway, I use 10 washcloths and my robe to dry off. Well at least there is no steam on the mirror. I grab for my hairbrush that promptly falls into the toilet that I didn’t flush because I didn’t want the water to change temperature while I was in the shower. Fish my brush out with the plunger, make a mess but, no way am I going to put my hand in there. I left the brush lying by the toilet, I don’t have time to do anything about it now and nobody will use it if I leave it there. Comb my hair with a small plastic comb from the medicine cabinet, it has a few teeth missing and when I finish there even more gone, put on my wet robe and head for the kitchen.
The coffeepot has only hot water in it, in all the hubbub my wife forgot to the coffee in the strainer. I use the hot water to make instant coffee. Yuck, gag me.
There is a pack of smokes sitting on the cabinet next to the range, a thought passes through my head, I could sit down here at the table light one up then call my boss tell him I’m sick and not coming in today, but NO, I can’t do that, I won’t do that. A quick look at the clock tells me I’m already 15 minutes late and I haven’t even started dressing. I head down the still damp hallway in my damp robe with my, yuck, instant coffee, into the bedroom to get dressed.
My pants are hanging neatly the closet, only two pairs still fit my amply endowed derriere, I look for those but they’re not hanging in there. I stuff myself into the biggest pair in the closet, two sizes smaller than I am now, I suck in my ever growing gut, get them snapped and pray to God the zipper holds. Then put on a huge Hawaiian shirt to cover up just in case, grab my shoes and socks and head back to the kitchen. I wouldn’t want to sit on the bed to try and put on socks and shoes, I might never get back up in these tight pants.
Back in the kitchen sitting in a chair, still gagging on the instant coffee, pants too tight and already digging into my belly, holes in the toes of my socks, putting on my shoes when "POP" my shoelace brakes. I tie the shoelace in a knot and look again at the smokes beckoning me to smoke just one. I decline, I’m now 25 minutes late. I skip breakfast, my pants are too tight for me to eat anything anyway, and head for my truck.
The ride to work was the normal 45 minutes of insanity. People swerving in and out and all around, thousands of people wanting to do twice the speed limit with one or two wanting to do 10 mph under it, in front of them all. Two garbage trucks in a neck-to-neck race blocking two lanes of the interstate highway and my favorite a gravel truck in the so called fast lane spilling gravel in all directions and proudly displaying a small sign saying, (STAY BACK 500 FEET – NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CRACKED WINDSHIELDS), a sign that could never be read at that distance and if you are close enough to read it your windshield is already cracked or getting pitted. Why are these trucks on the highway during rush hour anyway?
Finally I pull in to the parking lot at work and only 25 minutes late, but someone is in my usual parking space, I have to park a half-mile from the door. I hike to the entrance where in a cloud of smoke five of my smoking buddies stand. One says in a joking tone “Good of you to join us” and another “Good afternoon”. I think about bumming a smoke but go inside instead.
I reach my office 30 minutes late, passed the bosses office he wasn’t there, I might get away with this. Oh great, there is my boss, sitting at my desk waiting and he really doesn’t look too happy. To put it simply, he wants to know why the France shipment is in Malaysia, the Marlow Bucks, UK shipment is in Munich, Germany and why I’m late. I mumble something about traffic jam, making up the time at lunch and tell him I’ll check the shipping forms. Could this all be due to CRS syndrome? Could I have been this out of it? Maybe I should just go smoke and get it over, no I can’t now, but I will later if things don’t improve.
Things don’t improve, the messed up shipments my boss knew about were only the scum on the surface of a very polluted ocean of piss.
I went down to talk to the guy in shipping, which sat outside on the dock and smoked while I tried to not smoke and explain the foul up. He offered me a smoke, my hand went out to grab and there it was, I wanted to smoke it, but I handed it back and laughed it off. As I left he told me the problem would be fixed in a few days, he smoked 5 cigarettes while I talked to him. I went back to my office smelling like I had smoked a few myself. Just what I need to smell like all day, I should have just smoked one with him. I sat down at my desk and spent the next two hours sending E-mail apologies.
Finally I can take a moment for myself and I need it bad, the first thing that came to mind is, I need to go smoke, always did after finishing a project. Oh well not this time, went for my new addiction, The QuitNet. I log in and start to update my profile page when my boss walks in and looks at me like, what the hell are you doing. I explained that the screw up was being handled and I was just taking a quick break. But the look was still there, that you think you deserve a break after coming in late a messing up all the equipment orders, look. I logged off the Q-net and started working on some broken computers, part of my job, the boss man walks away shaking his head, oh sure, it’s fine to go smoke for 15 or 20 minutes every hour or so but sit at my desk and do something not in the line of duty, God forbid.
I am now in a piss poor mode and ready to smoke and not just one but a few hundred, one won’t help this and damn it neither will a few hundred. I’ll just wait and smoke later if I have to, maybe at lunch. Lunchtime at last, let’s see, go to lunch, or make up for being late, it’s go to lunch. Of course, the boss is in the lunchroom so I go outside with the smokers and no lunch. The smoke smells kind of good today, too good, I have to get out of here. I waunder back to my desk and start typing my 100 day, Elder ramble. Somehow, someway, I make it to the end of the day smoke free. It’s time to go home.
The trip home is the same as the ride in. Same gravel trucks, same NASCAR drivers in trash trucks, the same too slow people in front of the too fast and finally I home again. Grab the mail, all bills, the phone bill is due, the electric is due, the water is overdue, and the mortgage payment is now 65 dollars more a month then it was because the taxes went up. Maybe I should send in all of these credit card offers, I could use one to pay the other and maybe get by without paying anything for the next month or so, or I could mix them all up and send them all back to the wrong places, or better yet send them these bills.
Wife, daughter and son-in-law are on the patio smoking, they all said they would quit if I did, I guess they were talking about something else. I join them and try to sit where the smoke won’t get me, maybe the moon. That’s it I can’t take any more, I reach for the pack and pull one out and stick it in my mouth, sure glad I have my Juicy Fruit gum.
Over the past 100 + days I have had several excuses to start smoking again and I could have used any one of them or none of them, but the truth is no matter how bad it gets there is no reason or excuse good enough to start smoking again or any good enough to keep you from quitting. Smoking will never solve any problem, it will only add to it. I didn’t have any excuse to smoke. So I didn’t
