We got a bit of a scare from our Ancient One's doctor a week ago, and I just got up, went to the 7-11 and bought a pack of red Winstons, went out to the deck and had a smoke. I didn't even think about it. I just rose like a person next in line at the DMV and drove like a crash dummy on Valium. After I smoked the cigarette...I felt better, calmer. This is when the plan began.
My plan was to have a cigarette only in times of great stress. I put the pack of reds in the miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen next to the new Bic lighter with the American flag design on it. Then I thought, I'll just have one after lunch. They're great after a meal. That one made me feel guilty, and I knew I would have more discipline from then on. That's when Plan B was put into effect.
Plan B was that I would have a cigarette at 11AM and then another at 11PM. I would be in control. I would be one of those smokers who only smoke occasionally and never miss them unless they have a drink or find a bonfire at the party. I envy those people and I believed I could live among them and be of their tribe. It was 10 o'clock in the morning and only an hour until I would start my regimen. Let's see, there were eighteen cigs left in the pack in the drawer and that would give me nine days of the two-cigarette-a-day routine. Then I could quit.
At 11Am I lit up the Winston and made it last to the very edge of the brown part of the filter. There. Done. Good. But if I'm going to smoke only twice a day, two wouldn't hurt that much more at each sitting. I lit up another one and blew the smoke at a squirrel that was digging a hole in my plumeria pot. Little bugger, that'll show him. Okay.
After making lunch for KK and The Ancient One I went to check emails and had to pass the miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen. No. Not gonna do it. In the act of swishing my hands together like I was washing off that dirty nicotine dust, my right hand, through no volition of my own, went straight down to the drawer and accidentally opened it. There they were. It was as if they each were trying to escape the red and white shiny box. One of them had already squeezed up about an eighth of an inch in its attempt to escape the crowd. I freed it of its cramped quarters and headed for the deck. I'll start Plan B tomorrow in earnest, I thought, as I inhaled the harsh smoke and wiped the sweat from the hot afternoon sun off the back of my neck. Ah, that was good and I'm good to go till eleven.
As I smoked my now planned five-o'clock ciggy I contemplated the little monster inside that had bombarded my head with thoughts of the red and white box. It was as if it was my desktop picture on the computer. What if The Ancient One found them and threw them away. Better go check. Ah, hell, one more won't hurt.
Plan C would be one every two hours. Let's see...that would be about eight cigarettes a day. How much are cartons these days? About forty-five dollars. Ick, that sucks. This is insane. I can't do this. This is stupid. I need a cigarette to think about this.
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