The week you’ve had, I’d have to have a heart of granite to tell you not to light up. I was a smoker for twenty years, more or less; I’ve been clean for about six years, and I still miss the darn things*.
So bum a cigarette off of John Boenher and ignore your wife’s dirty looks. The last thing that we need right now is you being twitchy on top of everything else.
*I suspect that most of the virulent anti-smoking types do, too; fulminating against the Demon Tobacco is thus just their coping mechanism. At a guess.