Seeing that the hourly forecast promised no noticeable warming trend over the course of the day, I bundled up and walked the block or so to the fitness center in the chill morn. The wind in my face bit a bit, if I can say that without sounding redundant, but I survived the trek. After an hour on the treadmill and a walk around in the warmth of the building to cool down and let the perspiration evaporate, I went back to the apartment, smug that I had not let a little thing like frigid weather keep me from walking in place, getting nowhere, for one of the brief hours allotted to me in this vale of tears.
Along the way I noticed a gentleman standing out on the balcony of his third floor apartment. Smoking is not allowed in common areas in the building, but tenants can smoke in their own apartments. Also on the grounds, as long as they are ten feet away from the buildings. Perhaps this gentleman's wife [or husband] did not like the smell and banished him to the outer realms of the vale of tears. At any rate, I was amazed to see him out on the balcony in the bitter cold, puffing away in the wind while standing beside the exhaust from the HVAC. Maybe inhaling the warm air helped compensate for the br-r-rutal air between puffs.
2 comments:
I love the fact that you can so ironically say: "...smug that I had not let a little thing like frigid weather keep me from walking in place, getting nowhere..."
In 1986, we moved back to New England for a time. I smoked, but was not allowed to smoke inside the house. Early December I was out on the back deck, smoking my cigarette -- gloved, hooded, and hunched over. 'This is nuts,' I though. I gave myself until Christmas Eve to quit smoking... and I succeeded.
I smoked for a few years while at the university but quit after entering the monastery. I would dream about smoking and wake up feeling guilty that I had started up again. I figured the other guys found their sleep disturbed by memories of old loves, but I was dreaming of cigarettes.
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