The Only Way....

I awoke this morning to a nice cool breeze blowing in my window. It would've been a wonderful way to wake up, except that the nice cool breeze was accompanied with ice cold rain on my face. "No matter," I spoke aloud to no one, "These ice pellets are a nice change from the usual sweat that I wake up with." I arose and spent the next 10 minutes looking for my clothes, which I donned slowly. Being the nighthawk that I am, in the mornings I refuse to move any faster than a sloth swimming through peanut butter. I threw on my shoes and a hoodie, grabbed my keys and some change, and set out for Timmy's. I opened the front door, only to be thrown back inside by a gigantic blast of wind. I grinned to myself. Oh, how I do love a good storm. There's just something about the angry sky opening up and releasing it's torrential wrath on the poor unfortunate souls below, the lightning flashing viciously in the sky, taunting any and all who dare defy it.
I walked as swiftly as I could down the street, although with the wind fighting my every move I barely moved faster than a crawl. At long last, looking like a wet cat dragged out of the river, I arrived at Timmy's. Some broad in front of me was in the process of ordering what appeared to be THE ENTIRE MENU, so I had no choice but to wait in line. I know I rolled my eyes a few times when she couldn't decide between "...ummmmm....like, the chicken sandwich is good....but like, I don't know, like, so is the ham...oh em geeeee, what do I want....ummmm...." God save me.
Finally my waiting paid off, and I was whisked to the counter. I swiftly ordered my medium 3-3, gleefully grinned upon receiving it, and paid the lovely woman. My walk back was much more pleasant, with the wind on my back. I got home, grabbed my stoggies and headed to the back porch. The roof extended over the balcony, so I was sheltered from the majority of the rain, which I was thankful for. I don't know how many of you have ever tried smoking a cigarette in a freakin' monsoon, but it's a wee bit of a challenge. And don't get me wrong, I love a challenge every now and then, but if there's two things that should never be messed with, it's my coffee and my smoke...and ESPECIALLY when I'm having them together.
As I sat outside puffing on my cancer sticks, I started thinking of the ridiculous measures some of us are willing to go to for our little pleasures. Walking 20 minutes in a thunderstorm to get a coffee, sitting outside in the cold drenched to the bone, just to have a smoke.
Some people call it an addiction. I prefer to look at it as commitment.