Where's Catspaw when you need him?

I grew up with a smoker. Everyone else in the house hated it and through conditioning are ardent opponents of smoking. We protested, complained, even went on strike over smoking related issues ("You wash your own stinky ashtrays!"--you know how bad those things smell when they're wet?), but my mother was unmoved. She had cigarettes going all during the dinner meal, all around the house, and though we protested, if she came into our bedrooms the cigarette came with her. "It's my house" was the answer of this otherwise very bright woman. She was forced to quit cold turkey when it was clear that she had Buerger's Disease. She smoked when she was pregnant. I resent it like hell that I was essentially an involuntary smoker for 19 years before I moved out. I might have lived at home for intervals after that but getting away from the smell was such a relief. I hated to take stuff into the house because it would pick up the stink. I have boxes of stuff that came from my mother's home after she died. If I couldn't clean it up or run it through the washer it is residing in the garage and gradually airing out.

I was at a club recently where there were maybe 20-25 people and there was one smoker. And that one selfish little twit would stink up the place for everyone else. And this is why I don't go out to public places like that, where the few can spoil it for the many.

SRS (okay, off of my soapbox)