I feel a little like you do when you go out and buy that first pack of cigarettes after you’ve given up quitting. Like, you know this could be bad… is going to be bad… goes nowhere that doesn’t end up with you up until three in the morning, trying to find a place that’s open where you can get more. But there’s the crinkle of the cellophane and the smell, that smell of dry leaves, hitting your nose. You can already imagine the feel of it in your hands. You’re not thinking about the cluttered up house, the cost, the unseemliness, the sneaking out at lunch to do it–the downsides you know so well.
No, at that moment, it’s just the wonderful “yes.”