i smoke. sadly, my house does not. so, every time i light up, i do so outside of my house; usually on my front step (i'm very accommodating that way).
i preface my post with this seemingly useless information, because it explains why i have encountered so often what this post is really about-a thesis statement if you will...
when i'm outside, smoking by my lonesome, many a stray cat has crossed my path. no-i take that back...not actually crossed-more like crouched and peered at me from beneath parked cars or climbed and perched in the small city trees that line my street. they just stare at me and gaze into my eyes. a few times i've realized that i have been so captivated by their unwavering stare that i have neglected to breath, let along take a drag of my fag.
my theory: cats can steal your soul. i'm seriously glad one of my false promises to myself this year is to quit smoking. not only will i be saving my lungs, but also my spirit and eternal life force.
1 comment:
smoking steals your soul too. And your lung capacity. And your friends' respect. Oops, did I type that last one?
Love you, mean it.
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