More on Habits: the worst one I will never change

Turns out, I’m an untrustworthy narrator. A few years ago I was briefly hospitalized for what I was sure was a serious situation (it wasn’t). On the brink of mortality, at least in my own mind, I became honest on in-take forms.
Do you smoke: yes!
Drink: of course!
Use illegal drugs: Bill Clinton type answer here.
My husband was very puzzled. First of all, he lives with me, an abstemious woman with good health habits. Secondly, he knows I believe in lying on these in-takes.
A few hours later, I was hospitalized for observation, while realizing I was basically fine. Intake again.
Do you smoke: never!
Drink: of course not!
Use illegal drugs: Nancy Reagan type answer here.
Later, I repeated this (hopefully funny) story to my neighbor who works at the local hospital. “Oh,” she said, “you are what is called an ‘untrustworthy historian.’ “ Maybe I should be writing more fiction.
But this is really about my bad habits I don’t want to change. And I mean smoking cigarettes, not lying on in-take forms.
I smoke. About a cigarette per month. This bad habit is very important to me, and I intend to keep it. I was raise by smokers who then converted and quit. Not a pretty sight. It was drilled into me—smoking is dangerous and despicable. So at the cost of very few cigarettes I can get the thrill of being bad. Plus, I love it—the smoke, the hold, the sensation, the little rush. I do it so infrequently, I get an impact.
I really shouldn’t. I have half a lung. My husband sends me articles on how occasional smoking can raise blood pressure etc. But it is my vice, and I hold firmly to it. A tiny sacrifice, a nod to death, smoke coming into my body, sitting outside in different weather, feeling bad bad bad.
I also have some good—great—habits. But I’ll talk about those later.
As to my worst habit—I will never give it up.

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