Now I'm sleepless in Houston. I usually don't pay any attention to time zones. But I flew early yesterday morning from DC to Seattle, had my "nighttime" sleep during an afternoon hotel layover and then flew all night, arriving in Houston at 5:30am today. And for some reason, my body clock won't listen to me today.
Now I'm BORED. It's an unusually long layover (27 hours!) in downtown Houston. But not a particularly nice part of downtown and I'm sort of stuck in this hotel room the entire time. Room service doesn't operate until 5pm and I'm down to the celery sticks in my lunchbox. And how many episodes of "Property Brothers" can you watch in 27 hours? (I'll let you know; I'm on the seventh one now, with 16 hours to go in this boring layover.)
If I still smoked, I'd have been up and down the elevator 400 times by now, going to stand outside the hotel entrance on a busy street to smoke. I cringe when I think about how I would try to hide my lit cigarette when anyone who looked athletic and healthy walked by on the street. Yeah, like they didn't know what I was doing just standing out there on the sidewalk for no apparent reason. Who did I think I ws fooling? Only myself.
I was ashamed of my smoking. I knew that while I was talking to, or meeting, new people, when I pulled out a cigarette, their opinion of my intelligence went down. But it didn't stop me from smoking around them...
But I AM bored. Boredom is a dangerous state to be in. I know I won't smoke. But when I'm bored, I do find my mind flirting with thoughts of smoking. Not as in craving. Just a memory that you edit in your brain to only remember the parts that you WANT to remember. Funny how the hacking, the smell, the cost, the burn holes, the shame never enter into those fleeting "fond" memories, isn't it?
But, not to worry, the eighth straight episode of "Property Brothers" is starting. Sheesh.
