I'm going to have to go on a smoke break. My chest hurts, and not just a little bit, so it'd probably be best if I at least went this weekend smoke-free. It shouldn't be that hard to accomplish, but somehow it always is. Someone will invariably pop through our front door with the most beautifully cylindrical joint at the ready, practically begging us to smoke with them. And my mind is elsewhere, not where it should be, but rather wrapped in upon itself, unable to go any further, and too afraid to unwind and shake itself loose.