Section 280E of the Federal Income Tax Code says that drug dealers can't deduct any expenses related to the drug trade from their tax returns. Well, that doesn't apply to the cost of the drugs though, you get to sort of make back that investment.
It was almost painful reading that on Monday. Monday. Marathon Monday. 4/20 Monday.
I should have expected it, too, the inevitable IM from a college friend. Something along the lines of "can't wait to get out of work...sad for you if you're not celebrating." I sighed, wishing that sigh was an exhalation of sweet, powdery, swirls of smoke, snaking out of my lungs and throat, ending with the rattled cough and the declaration, "wow...wow..."
I haven't done that in too long, and that may be for the best. Even if only for financial reasons, I couldn't afford such a habit. That's not to say I'm not fighting an internal battle against carcinogens these days. It happens the last few weeks of every semester when too many hours in the library, not enough riding, and guilt for not working hard enough combine and my brain tells me that something's gotta give.
And when that happens, I make up some excuse to get outside, get grabbed by a good friend I haven't spoken to in weeks, and find a cigarette in my hand, smoke between my lips. Inhale. Exhale. I'll feel like shit later, and that's when I'll crave another.
I thought about it last night as I passed the Store24. I had a few bucks in my pocket, a lighter at home. Add coffee to that and it would be my college breakfast all over again. I sighed, thinking, "maybe, maybe."
Instead I stretched, laid out on my floor, and looked up at a bike built to go fast. It looked like it wanted to pounce and break out of my bare apartment under a pair of strong legs and a set of reasonably workable lungs.
"Okay," I said, defeated, feeling even more guilty, "I won't. Not tonight."
And hopefully, not tonight either.