SEMI-DOMESTIC BLISS

Every year, like clockwork, pipesmokers in places like Michigan or Minnesota post variants of the Siberia Help Cry. "It's so cold! My garage is freezing! The wife won't let me smoke in the house! How do you guys stand it?" And naturally every year the responses are the same. "Dude, I live in California." "Buy a space heater." "Get a divorce." "Man up!"

Because, of course, a real he-man goes out on the frozen lake in his thermals with his trusty briar, and only a waist-length beard and his determination to keep him warm. Also, no testicles. Because they froze off while he was proving a point.

My advice, if I had any, would be to wear multiple layers of clothing and smear a layer of bear fat on exposed skin, then set fire to your neighbor's parked car. Which is probably up on cinder blocks anyway, given where you live.

I live in San Francisco and have a heavy overcoat and gloves.

For two or three months of the year I complain.

And wear two pairs of socks.


Honestly, I don't know how women pipe smokers do it. One of them I know has a husband who also smokes a pipe, and another one probably lives alone with her cats. There are others, but on pipe forums they're mostly silent, because otherwise they get marriage proposals from ten thousand or more lonely men.

I'm not sure I could stand living with another smoker. Pipes or otherwise. I wouldn't mind being the comforting fragrant presence in someone else's life, right around tea time for instance, but I don't particularly like sharing ashtrays. Even at work that's a problem.


A shared "habit" might not be sufficient common ground for cohabitation.
And in any case, that's what the public street is for.
Preferably in front of office high rises.

Either that or the common room at a residential establishment for academics, or the library down at the Imperialist Warmongers' Club. Where tea is served, followed by sherry and drinks, before dinner. Someplace where there is no talk of sports or religion.

And we can all agree that what should go on buttered toast is thick cut marmalade, or sardines. Or, if we're feeling controversial and gout-free today, chopped liver.
That last will have to be arranged in advance.
A contradiction.



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