Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Friday, 31 March 2017
It Is The Day Of My Patron Saint, Tomorrow
April 1st, 2009.
On long sales trips I live in a 1/2 ton truck full of tools, catalogues, PPE and all the other junk and accouterments an industrial salesman has to tote around. The passenger side floor of my truck is my garbage can - old coffee cups, Rotten Ronald burg cartons... and probably $60.00 worth of empty cigar cartons. I had started coughing like my Dad did - a phlegmy, ugly hack that just didn't sound right coming from men like us.
Pop's smoking solved itself. His own words: "I got old, senile and stupid and started forgetting things. One day I got so old and stupid, I had a Senior's Moment and forgot that I smoked! Quitting is easy when you're old and stupid, HAW HAW HAW!" Jeez - I had his annoying cough, thank goodness I never developed his annoying laugh! HAR HAR HAR!
In any event, I was shovelling out my truck on April 1st, 2009, looking at all those cigar cartons and hating myself. Addiction is weakness. The money wasted bothered me too - but it was the addiction that REALLY pissed me off. It is a truism: tobacco is a gov't tax on the weak and the stupid. I quit cold turkey. The gum and the pouches and the vaping gizmoes are also taxes on the stupid, far as I'm concerned.
Today I am going to wash the company truck and shovel it out again. It's full of coffee cups, burg wrappers, and smells like a dead fart .... gawd, my gut hangs four feet over my belt! I booted the tobacco habit...I need to do something about the way I eat. I need to exercise, hell - I have been letting too many important things slide. It's too much...I am going to pick ONE of my flaws tomorrow, and DO something about it. For some reason, for me - new resolutions just seem to work better on a day dedicated to foolishness rather than a day dedicated to reflection and celebration of a new year.
Whatever works, I suppose.