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New Year's Day is a time for reflection and self-assessment. But I don't acquiesce to reflections of any sort, especially those generated by mirrors, because my level of physical attractiveness is equal to that of an adult blobfish in hip waders. And I avoid self-assessment because it so often indicates the need for some sort of effort toward improvement. I don't need improvement and don't like effort, so it's something of a wasted day for me.
However, this New Year I've realized that improvement can be good, if I choose my resolution carefully. I came to this conclusion after my wife said, "You need a New Year's resolution to improve something about yourself. I don't care what. Any improvement will do."
I always follow my wife's advice, because she feeds me, and I like that. I'm incapable of preparing any meal more complex than hard cheese on a paper plate, so I make compromises, such as a New Year's resolution.
If you've seen this year's video of resolutions from our staff, you may have seen my own contribution, but you didn't see that I went on for about five minutes that was omitted because I lapsed into my usual rants and profanity and flights of imagination. It's standard operating procedure, and well advised, to expunge two-thirds of anything I say, but I feel the need to delve deeper into this resolution and will attempt to do so here with minimal offense.
I smoke a lot; that is, I'm never not smoking, except when I sleep, and that's a problem I need to address. Smoking like that is a deficiency I'm not proud of. Some careful reflection on my behavior reveals that I am flawed, and I intend to improve myself by changing my smoking habits for the better.
Only when I can smoke 24 hours a day can I attain any semblance of self-respect, so I've determined to learn to smoke in my sleep — so I no longer miss that window of opportunity. However, it is not as easy as one might think. It takes preparation.
I smoke a lot; that is, I'm never not smoking, except when I sleep, and that's a problem I need to address.
Smoking in one's sleep is a fire hazard, and my wife has displayed signs of discontent every time I've burned the house down, so I want to avoid that. I started researching asbestos bed linens so that smoking in bed would be as safe as humanly possible. They're not easy to find. At last, through exhaustive research and investigation, I was able to locate a single family on an island off Greenland that weaves asbestos cloth. It's a lost art, made exceedingly rare by the fact that the endangered asbestos tree grows only on the ten acres of land owned by this family. It's like Perique in its geographical limitations. When the fruit of these trees ripens, the family harvests the asbestos and weaves it. I special-ordered a set of sheets, pillowcases and comforter, and they arrived a couple of days ago: pure, 100 percent asbestos with a 500-thread count. Comfy.
But as automatic as the process is, I might be unable to smoke while unconscious even with the relaxing assurance of fire precautions, so I started looking at drugs.
Legal drugs, that is. I'm no hippie — not since the '70s, anyway. No, I looked to the dependable and trustworthy pharmaceutical industry for help.
It turned out they have a sleeping pill that has caused people to perform various functions while asleep, things like cook a full meal with no memory of doing so, or drive a car, or maybe rob a 7-11; you know: things one does routinely without really thinking about it. That sounded exactly like what I needed for smoking in my sleep, so I've acquired a legal prescription to attain the somnambulism I require.
That wasn't enough, though, because I believe in keeping my family safe. I installed a moat around the bed, requiring my wife and I pole vault across, which is inconvenient, but safety comes first. However, when my wife saw this setup, she was not as pleased as I thought. She actually objected to all the steps I'd taken toward self-improvement and made me take it all down.
The only way forward now is to set up the guest room, but our guest room is deliberately wretched — so that guests, especially family, will leave quickly, usually in the middle of the night. No one can survive a night in that room.
So once again I'm left with a new year, a firm resolution, and, despite my best efforts, no way to bring it to fruition. As with so many resolutions of the past, I tried and failed.
All is not lost, though. My quest for wife-motivated self-improvement persists, and I'm now working on a way to generate a permanent flame somewhere on my physical body, so I won't waste so much time flicking lighters. I'm thinking my left pinky finger would be most appropriate, though it will be hard to hit the "A" and "Z" keys when I write, and might even cause eventual hardware damage. I've ordered an asbestos keyboard.
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Comments
Then again: marvelous! But I need the same asbestos for the keyboard too. Spilled my embers over it when started laughing. Links to that family processing business, please!!! Cheers, LV
Chuck, like you, with reflection I am certainly flawed and I'm ok with that. So when it comes to New Year's resolutions they no longer enter my mind because I realize it will accomplish nothing for me. However you have mentioned something in this message that I have to go in search to find. The asbestos tree would be a real treasure to those of us that love to play with fire. Thanks for the laughs.
As usual a very dry humor piece of magnificent writing!!°
The pipe featured in the photo for this article seems like it's of the style & quality that I often work to find & afford, to add to my modest rotation of pipes. Any help in identifying the details necessary for me to possibly pick one up would definitely be appreciated. :)
I have not laughed so hard in a long time. You have a gift for humor.