Ode to Cigarettes

I hate being a non-smoker. It is so boring! It occurred to me the other day that I really would be a lot happier if I smoked. 

When someone says "good morning" to me, I cannot just ignore him or her and go have a smoke. In fact, I seldom get an extra break in my workday. I cannot stop what I’m doing to have a quick cigarette. I do not get to go outside and hang around talking to the other smokers at regular intervals on the pretense that I’m having nicotine fit.

I’m not able to use nicotine as an excuse for my grouchiness in the morning. I just have to admit that I’m a grouch. If my nerves are jittery, I must have some sort of psychological problem. I cannot say it is because I have not had a cigarette. I cannot even go to the psychologist and pretend it is for help to stop smoking.

I do not have anything to hold in my hand to calm my nerves. I do not get the satisfaction of throwing my butts down for others to clean up. No one praises me for trying to quit because I never smoked in the first place.

I cannot wear the patch as a status symbol. Nobody asks my opinion of whether it works or not. I obviously don’t know anything about the patch or have an opinion. No one is proud of me when I go without a cigarette. My calmness is taken for granted, as I supposedly have the ability to control my behavior.

I cannot brag about all the money I’m saving by cutting back. I do not get to shop for cute ashtrays to accessorize my home. I do not get to buy nice leather cigarette cases or fancy lighters to support my habit.

I do not have an excuse to buy new furniture because I accidentally made a burn mark on something. The candles on my birthday cake smoke more than I do.

I do not have anything with my coffee in the morning unless it is food. I have nothing to do in a bar or club except drink. I do not have to sit in the smoking section at a restaurant and so I am always in the family section with people who have their kids along. 

At the theater, I do not have a reason to go out to the lobby during intermissions. I never have an excuse to get out of the house and run to the store for a package of cigarettes.

I don’t take a work break until lunchtime, so I have to do more work than a smoker. I cannot avoid doing what I am supposed to do by using the excuse that I’m addicted. I can’t leave meetings early to look for the smoking area. I can’t excuse myself to hunt for a package of cigarettes. I have nothing to give up for the Great American Smoke Out.

I do not get to be offended about my right to smoke being violated. I don’t get to complain about being persecuted for smoking. I can’t throw a fit and blame it on nicotine withdrawal. I do not have nicotine to stimulate me and keep me going.

My three favorite things are allergy medication, clean ashtrays, and good chest x-rays. How boring can life get?

I can’t use my poor health as an excuse to miss work. My life goal has to be something besides just to quit smoking. I do not have an emergency pack of cigarettes in the refrigerator just in case. And worst of all, I have nothing to do after sex but just lay there.

Yes, smokers are much happier people. If it were just not for that nagging little question about cancer, I’d smoke too.