IT'S all doom and gloom - now that I've reverted, temporarily, to being a smoker.
An isolated spot in the company car park is my occasional 'home' as I puff away, in disgrace.
Yesterday (Friday) I was the only person employed by Archant South West to use the butt bin area, and it was a lonely experience.
During my nine weeks as a non-smoker, I saw people lighting up everywhere - or so it seemed. Now I'd lit up, I couldn't see anyone.
Dwelling on the pitfalls of being a smoker, I hit on the extreme. The clouds were black and the odd streak of lightning flashed across the sky.
I put my 'risk assessment' hat on. What if a lightning bolt struck the pitiful excuse for a tree next to the butt bin? What if I was standing under it at the time? Who would get the paper out? I'm never ill, but being frazzled is a different matter!
Even worse, what if I ever got so desperate for a cigarette that I dashed out into the car park, without looking, and got run over by a car?
Unlikely as they may sound, these events could actually happen. There's nothing so *** as life, they say.
I care more about the Midweek Herald than I do for my addiction to nicotine.
Time to put a patch back on!
But, as an addict WOULD say, I'll wait until next Wednesday before being 'good' again.