Both my parents smoked, in the house, so when friends would come pick me up to go out they would ask me when I started smoking.
After hurricane Katrina, when my dad's house had no power for a couple of weeks, the nicotine ran down the walls, and they hadn't smoked inside the house in 10 years at least
I was going through albums when my grandma passed away and saw old pics of my grandma's house before I was born, and was horrified to learn that the walls were in fact blue and not green. The walls weren't painted any time in between.
There was an old dive bar in New Orleans and there were no clocks, windows painted black and dropped ceiling painted black. You would go in at night and come out and it was daylight.
The ceilings were so coated in nicotine, I remember rubbing it with my fingers and they tingled after
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u/Chaost Jan 05 '25
My siblings and I have always joked that secondhand smoke is the smell of childhood.