Summer Hours

I like summer hours on campus for ME.  For me, it means not stepping foot in my office from May until August, when I’ll swoop in with just enough time to print my office hours door sign and a few syllabi.   But when the Rec center has summer hours, it leaves me sitting in the parking lot with a half hour to kill, wanting a cigarette so bad that I’ve thought of a half dozen ways to cheat. They are as follows:

1. Go to tobacco store, buy a pack. Smoke.  (save the other 19 for when I feel like this again)
2. Find a smoker, bum one.
3. Check my office for emergency cigarette stash.
4. Go to tobacco store, ask lady to sell me exactly one. That way I’m not tempted by those other 19.
5. Use hubby’s e-cigarette, have the verboten nicotine just to take the edge off, be deeply disappointed that I just didn’t have a cigarette.
6. Go back home, rummage through ashtrays and smoke what’s left in the butts.

I like to bookend a perfectly healthy workout with a cigarette right before and just after.  (no judgement, right?)

This has been the longest morning… And it’s only 6 am.
Fuck.

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