Smoking causes clarity

Sometimes, without warning, I have a desperate craving for a cigarette. Right now, I would kill to go outside, sit down and light up a cigarette. It would be a blissful few minutes in which I would forget my stresses and just enjoy the gloriousness of that smooth smoke.
The thing that stops me is the realisation that it probably wouldn’t go like that. It would be 5 minutes of me choking on smoke because it’s been so long since I had a cigarette, and then days of feeling grotty and wishing I hadn’t done it.

Still, it’s nice to imagine that I could just pop out now and enjoy a quick cigarette as much as I used to. It used to help me with decision making. I think the distraction of it all made me calm and I could think clearly. Right now I have some big work-related decisions to make and I keep thinking that maybe a cigarette might help me decide what it is I want to do.

On one hand, I have the option of staying in the job I’m in. It’s cruisey, it pays reasonably well, and I don’t have people harassing me all the time. It is, however, pretty boring, and my boss is kind of losing his marbles and can’t make a decision on any subject whatsoever that he will stick to.
On the other hand, I have the opportunity to start a job that is infinitely more interesting, has potential to move my career forward instead of being stalled like it currently is, but also means that I would have to work a lot harder for not a lot of extra cash. And it’s only part time, which means I either work (and therefore earn) less, or I work two jobs. That might not work out either, as it means getting my current boss to agree to a massive reduction in my working hours, which is a big risk. If I accept the new job, I might potentially lose 2 days of work a week, but I wouldn’t know that until after I’ve committed to the new job.

So I have a cigarette-demanding dilemma. My brain keeps telling me that the way to solve this problem is to fill it full of nicotine so it can calm down and see things clearly. My lungs, on the other hand, are screaming ‘No, No, No! Don’t do it! Have a drink instead!’ to which my liver is demanding that if I resort to heavy drinking, it might just start a Union and go on strike until it gets what it wants - or rather, what it doesn’t want.

So instead I’m just sitting here, thinking about how great a cigarette would be, and not really accomplishing much else.