When I smoked outside of work, it was usually in a bar. I’ve never been much of a bar-goer though, so this restriction grew a bit tedious.
When I smoked outside of work and outside of a bar, it was usually in the company of another smoker. I’ve never been an outgoing, gregarious sort of person, so this limitation was also a bit hard to manipulate.
So, I quit smoking.
How wonky is that?
I have vices and carefully constructed scenarii wherein that vice is an accepted indulgence. If the parameters break down, I look for new parameters. If I can’t find them, I abdicate the vice.
Yeah. Utter wonkness.
How about this instead? I have a vice. Potato chips, too many hats… whatever. I own the vice. I declare to the the goddesses and gods that I own this vice. I even tell my dog. Now, that’s a commitment because dogs don’t get waffling or conditions. You’re either going for the walk or you aren’t. And, if you are lucky enough to share life with a dog, you have a responsibility to not waffle.
Now what? I own this vice. Well, then I have to decide if I’m going to keep it. Dust it off and rub it with rust remover. Maybe start a collection. Build a curio cabinet that sits in the middle of my office so that I have to walk around it or remove splinters from my head every time we collide.
Eventually, I’d move the curio cabinet along with it’s bursting vice contents downstairs into the front room where it sits in front of goddesses, gods, my dog and everyone who we come into contact with.
Hello. This is my vice cabinet. I would have chosen solid wood doors, but it only comes with open shelves. Where everyone can see exactly what it contains.
Chances are, I’ll blog about it too.
Susan Scot Fry
Update… I’ve had several occasions in the last 24 hours or so to thing, “If I (xyz), then I can (vice).” It was fascinating to realize that. I bargain with myself all day long about nearly everything. Not just about vices (or perceived vices) either. About everything. My life is all cause and effect. Bargaining. It’s exhausting.