hows that, for irony

well it just figures that the very day i decide to get myself healthy and stay healthy, that my white blood cells would all die off in a sub-bubonic plague. having not 1 but 2 smokers around, the past couple weeks, has been a terrible influence on me. i'd never so much as looked twice at one of the cancer sticks and in fact, had never even bought jason a pack up until 2 years ago. even when it was all the rage with my girlfriends and their black clove and cigarellos. 'never interested me. before we moved in together, and way before bella came along, that was my one prerequisite of jason, that he smoke outside. i hated the smell. then all of a sudden in the face of my marriage and life as i knew it officially spiraling down the loo, i bummed one off jason one day & inhaled the nasty sucker down, thus beginning my on again-off again relationship with tobacco. i'd bum one here and there, from time to time.

i know. i know. shocking. the good news is i don't need it, as say, jason does. but when life gets stressful, that becomes the first thing i want to reach for. when mom had her heart-attack, when ray lost his leg, after the rape....

i still hate the smell...still don't allow it in the house, but still visit my dirty nicotene secret from time to time.

you'd think i'd know better by now. after last years bout with pneumonia and onset of the most Ungodliest Painful Asthma the world has ever known, you'd think i wouldn't be so stupid. but stupid is as stupid does, and i have been so stupid on 11 such occasions over the past year. yes, i keep track. i got a hankering for one the other day , actually, when all that dog drama went down, and i puffed 2 of them b'natches. the very next day, i decided to get back on my vitamin wagon that i'd fallen off ever sooooo gracefully, drink my weight in ice water and in true "lets DO this" form, walked a brisk 2 miles around the track that night, ignoring my heaving busoms.

add to this, my evil plan to cash in some vacation time on my next paycheck, and you have the makings for a right good disaster.

therefore, i spent all of yesterday and last night in sinus/chest/chills/congestive torture. i came this close to calling into work but bucked up and bought a bottle of zicam to get me thru the night. i wish i hadn't. and i have a sneaking suspicion that i may not be as lucky tonite. my plan is to knock myself out in abit and see if i'm miraculously healed by tiny heavenly faeries while i sleep. that could be the nyquil talking, but i'm not one to argue.

anyway. what i really came to talk about was this: guess who called my house last night. guess. you'll remember awhile back, my lengthy speel about the upstairs neighbors and the notes and the general funk and the "what to do, what to do", and such. well she called. and talked for like, 20 minutes. nicely. and asked for help. 'said she'd seperated from her abusive boyfriend. could we please keep an eye out for her, and so forth.

the irony in all this, is that tho i've felt really rather put out with christy, i don't think the neighbor would have ever reached out, had christy not embaressed the crap out of me by knocking on their door and asking for weed last week.

'funny, how the world goes 'round.