I'm back at my parents house temporarily (lame) and a few nights ago decided to smoke a delicious joint. Problem was I couldn't find my lighter and my parents don't smoke so the only possible source of ignition was the big box of matches we use to light the fire. Sadly it was in the living room exactly where my parents were watching TV. I spent about an hour thinking of ways to get in there and get it without the parents noticing. I knew I couldn't take it while they were in there - it's in plain view right next to the TV. Finally, I hit upon a ridiculous plan. I put some bread under the grill and then 'forgot' about it, leaving the kitchen door just open enough for the smoke to reach the fire alarm. Then I went upstairs. After a few minutes, I heard the alarm and the sounds of concerned parenting happening below, so slipped downstairs, nipped in the front room, rammed the box of matches in my pocket (it's pretty big and made a rather obvious square lump) then ran to the kitchen. After a short bit of nagging from my mum and muttering from my dad while he waved the tea towel in the direction of the alarm, they went back to the TV.
Finally, I could smoke! It was pretty cold outside so I went upstairs and put on my dressing gown - I nearly always smoke in my dressing gown at home - then put the joint in one pocket and the matches in the other. I slipped out the back and watched smoke curl for a few minutes. Finally, as I was finishing, I picked up the matches and put them back in my dressing gown pocket and... da da! Guess what. Therein lay the lighter, exactly where I had left it two days before. This is exactly the kind of ridiculous shit that always happens when you smoke and, far from making me smile, I literally couldn't stop laughing for about ten minutes. My cat was eyeing me concernedly.
All part of the magic of smoking.