Thoughts on Cigarettes and a sidebar passing thinger to Corey. :)
I don't like smoking. My sister caused this when she was in high school. She would send me to the store to buy her a pack of "ciggies" and then as she's lighting up, would tell me that she would personally kill me if she ever caught me smoking. She threatened my life many times over the years but this one threat was the most scary.
Like the devious little sister I am, I'd wait till she was at her most desperate (and lazy) and when she'd demand I do her tobacco shopping I would hold out for incentives, mostly cash in small unnumbered bills. In those days, a pack was about fifty cents or so but she'd have to fork over close to five bucks and I'd get to keep the change before I'd go get them for her. And this is the thanks I got? She'd kill me? Sheesh.
I smoked myself for a few years, menthols thank you very much but I consider usage more social than committed. Everyone in my office smoked at their desks (see how long ago this is?) and so I had my own ashtray as well, although in my case I tended to light one up and then walk off to do something, forgetting about it till I came back and saw that neat line of ash across the tray slumping up to the filter. When the price of cigarettes was up to about a dollar a pack, I stopped buying them. My thrifty soul (I must've been Scottish in a former life) could not bear the thought of spending that much on an item that went up in flames.
Still, when my sister visited me wherever I've lived, I would always have at least one cigarette with her as we sat around chit-chatting. As adults, my sister knew that I indulged and didn't follow through on the threats to my life, although I admit it was a couple of years into my habit before I dared light up in front of her. Old fears die hard!
It did gall her that our mom never knew and would harp on my sister but not on me about this habit. I suspect that all that harping led my sister into the deep, deep addiction she has today that she cannot and does not want to shake. For me, "quitting" was a financial choice and easy to make. I don't understand the craving. Maybe I crave entire sleeves of Oreos from time to time but I don't have to have them the way an addicted smoker needs a smoke. Indeed, since I quit smoking, I've developed that anti-smoking zeal that I believe is even worse among ex-smokers with the unconverted (albeit in my case, I was never strongly addicted to begin with). I developed an allergy to cigarette smoke as well, which leaves my eyes puffy and my nose sneezy when I'm around it for too long.
Rob used to smoke. He still bums from the guys at work although he doesn't smoke in front of me. When we went to visit Suz and Broos, Suz was lighting up and Rob looked so forlorn I said he could indulge with her. I'm thinking he'll have one. What little insight I have, since the poor man had been smoking for years before he came west...that craving is still there, just buried a bit. When I walked out onto the fabulous back 40 at Mooville West I was surprised to see him smoking with Suz. He looked confused surprised because I looked disapprovingly surprised. "You gave me permission!" he objected. "Just for one!" I countered.
So there I was and I thought, "Wow. I'm being really narrow on this issue. How much trouble is it for him to have this little bit of enjoyment while we're on holiday?" I've been trying not to say anything and push my anti-smoking agenda with him. It's really hard for me because I love him and I don't want to end up watching him get like emphysema and have to carry one of those oxygen thingers everywhere. When we grow old, he's supposed to be the one wheeling me around Walmart; I have it in writing.
And now the Corey sidebar. What was your aide thinking, especially after presumably doing your shopping for months. Although I must admit, I fret that some night a lit one will slip into your bedcovers and you won't be able to find it and that scares me. Can you send your aide to get you one of them water pipe things instead? Those don't catch on fire, do they?
I don't like smoking. My sister caused this when she was in high school. She would send me to the store to buy her a pack of "ciggies" and then as she's lighting up, would tell me that she would personally kill me if she ever caught me smoking. She threatened my life many times over the years but this one threat was the most scary.
Like the devious little sister I am, I'd wait till she was at her most desperate (and lazy) and when she'd demand I do her tobacco shopping I would hold out for incentives, mostly cash in small unnumbered bills. In those days, a pack was about fifty cents or so but she'd have to fork over close to five bucks and I'd get to keep the change before I'd go get them for her. And this is the thanks I got? She'd kill me? Sheesh.
I smoked myself for a few years, menthols thank you very much but I consider usage more social than committed. Everyone in my office smoked at their desks (see how long ago this is?) and so I had my own ashtray as well, although in my case I tended to light one up and then walk off to do something, forgetting about it till I came back and saw that neat line of ash across the tray slumping up to the filter. When the price of cigarettes was up to about a dollar a pack, I stopped buying them. My thrifty soul (I must've been Scottish in a former life) could not bear the thought of spending that much on an item that went up in flames.
Still, when my sister visited me wherever I've lived, I would always have at least one cigarette with her as we sat around chit-chatting. As adults, my sister knew that I indulged and didn't follow through on the threats to my life, although I admit it was a couple of years into my habit before I dared light up in front of her. Old fears die hard!
It did gall her that our mom never knew and would harp on my sister but not on me about this habit. I suspect that all that harping led my sister into the deep, deep addiction she has today that she cannot and does not want to shake. For me, "quitting" was a financial choice and easy to make. I don't understand the craving. Maybe I crave entire sleeves of Oreos from time to time but I don't have to have them the way an addicted smoker needs a smoke. Indeed, since I quit smoking, I've developed that anti-smoking zeal that I believe is even worse among ex-smokers with the unconverted (albeit in my case, I was never strongly addicted to begin with). I developed an allergy to cigarette smoke as well, which leaves my eyes puffy and my nose sneezy when I'm around it for too long.
Rob used to smoke. He still bums from the guys at work although he doesn't smoke in front of me. When we went to visit Suz and Broos, Suz was lighting up and Rob looked so forlorn I said he could indulge with her. I'm thinking he'll have one. What little insight I have, since the poor man had been smoking for years before he came west...that craving is still there, just buried a bit. When I walked out onto the fabulous back 40 at Mooville West I was surprised to see him smoking with Suz. He looked confused surprised because I looked disapprovingly surprised. "You gave me permission!" he objected. "Just for one!" I countered.
So there I was and I thought, "Wow. I'm being really narrow on this issue. How much trouble is it for him to have this little bit of enjoyment while we're on holiday?" I've been trying not to say anything and push my anti-smoking agenda with him. It's really hard for me because I love him and I don't want to end up watching him get like emphysema and have to carry one of those oxygen thingers everywhere. When we grow old, he's supposed to be the one wheeling me around Walmart; I have it in writing.
And now the Corey sidebar. What was your aide thinking, especially after presumably doing your shopping for months. Although I must admit, I fret that some night a lit one will slip into your bedcovers and you won't be able to find it and that scares me. Can you send your aide to get you one of them water pipe things instead? Those don't catch on fire, do they?
posted by Owl Chick at 12/12/2001 10:25:00 AM
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