Tobacco Will Kill Me, Yet!

"When they get to a dollar per pack, I'm going to quit. That's just
too much money," I said. It makes me laugh real hard, now when I think
back. In my town they're over five dollars a pack ~ that's a hefty
price for a bad habit! Price isn't the only struggle with smoking
cigarettes though. It's not only bad for me, but just not welcome in
most places any more, and I must go through great lengths to do
it.

I sneak out of work to snag a quick smoke between non-existent breaks,
and it might be blowing so hard that it appears to be raining sideways.
But, I'll be out there, puffing away. I come back in and my hair is wet
and sticking straight out to the left of my head, but I'm happy and
ready for another grueling few hours of work.

One day it was only 4 degrees farenheit, and there we were, four of us
huddled in that little cubby-hole that contained the door to the
kitchen of the restaurant we worked in. We couldn't grab a coat, or
others would know we were going outside, but it didn't stop us
diehards. We've walked our mile for that Camel, and now we'll freeze
our butts off for it.

I have even sneaked off church property to have a quick smoke during
long weddings. Once, I snuck out of a funeral service for a smoke and
it was windy that day. My long hair flew across the flame of my lighter
and I was lit! First it was my screams that drew everyone's attention,
and then it was the slapping of my head as I danced around, that
brought the others over to me.

I remember when it was 104 degrees outside, and the smoking drained
what little energy I had left, but I still did it and then complained
about being tired. Once, I went to the doctor when I had bronchitis,
and she asked me how I felt. I told her, I feel so sick I can't even
smoke! She didn't think it was very funny.....

I know, it's sad, but true: There is really nothing I'd rather do, to
enjoy or comfort myself. If I have a moment, I take a relaxing smoke
break. If the meal was especially filling, a nice smoke will top it
off. If a tragedy happens, don't let me run out of smokes, and if I'm
really angry, I'll need two packs! My husband smokes in the bathtub, a
habit which I abhorr, but I know from my own experience that I won't be
able to stop him, so I just wash down the walls, and then complain.
Just like all the people who complain about my smoking, I tell it to
deaf ears.

But that thing, the one about the price, that is a bit harder to deal
with. It's winter in Alaska, and times are tough every year for most of
us. We save for winters, but if the summer isn't a jack-pot season,
we'll still have to ration and scrape until Spring comes. So, in an
effort to save a few bucks, here I sit, trying to roll my own smokes
from this big bag of tobacco my husband brought home. I can do the
rolling part, no problem. But, how do they get them packed so well? The
cigarettes I roll by hand seem to be loose, and half the tobacco falls
out when I put them down, and the hot tip falls off when I flick my
ash. Sometimes I get so angry after several tries, that even I consider
quitting! Alot of times, the little roller breaks, too.

So I have tobacco, papers, matches, and I still can't smoke!
Aaaack!

Oh, I've quit and quit, and always fallen off the damn wagon. I started
avoiding wagons because of it; just another failure I'd have to face.
So I'll have a smoke; if I can roll one. I know these coffin nails are
going to kill me, but it may be from hypothermia or suicide, and not
lung cancer.