After spending the entire day in hot pursuit of 42 rogue cattle, clambering up and down veritable mountains (I suppose they are foothills, but when you sprint them twelve times in one day with a head cold and two sprained ankles on the mend, they count as mountains, okay?), I have no lung capacity left to consider smoking a cigarette, much less breathing my way through the next 12 hours.
Good thing I have an asthma inhaler that's further expired than my Toblerone.
So anyway, things here are great.
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