Run Away!

Guy smokes inside. While it's gross, inconsiderate, and totes against the rules, it actually doesn't really bother me all that much. He only does it once in awhile and if the smoke does find its way up to our apartment, I usually only catch the occasional whiff. He is usually pretty good about going outside to the front stoop to light up, or at the very least, go down to the basement and smoke in the laundry room. I should mention while I'm riding this whaa-mbulance that as much as Guy smokes, it does not seem that he has ever invested in an ash tray. All of the cigarette butts that we do not find in the laundry machine are whirling around in the wind on our front stoop. Sometimes he'll collect them in an empty Diet Coke can that he also keeps under the poop chair, but inevitably, the wind knocks the can over and cigarette butts decorate the shrubbery in our front yard.