Ragged with Wisdom

Have you've ever been into a smoking room at an airport? That's what a smoking room in a hotel smells like but worse.

The windows don't open, leaving you with the stale smell of a hundred extinguished Marlboros. The ceiling has become that lovely off yellow colour we all love. Tar has clung to every surface.

So I don't book smoking rooms but I do smoke.

With that comes the usual inconvenience of having to put a shirt on at two in the morning to go outside and satisfy my nicotine mistress.

In a blizzards though, you need layers, lots!

Heed my warning kids, undershirts are your friend for your late night smokey treat.