I was almost late posting this column because I had to make a mouse out of a cashmere hooded sweater and two pipe cleaners.

I hate this part of parenting — the part with safety pins, bobby pins, boiled felt, and Elmer’s glue. But, it did remind me of how I quit smoking. Once again, I called on my inner sloth — so easy to do in the crotch of winter — and he helpfully deflated my gumption to go out.

Tonight, when informed through tears that upon her arrival at school tomorrow morning (at 7:50 a.m.) my youngest must be a recognizable rodent, I knew the options could not involve going out. That there is a 24-hour Wal-Mart 11 blocks away must not figure into my decision-making. A mouse would be made, out of dryer lint and Hershey’s Kisses wrappers if necessary, but without leaving.

Similarly, when I was 27 and breaking up with a longtime partner and smoking a pack and a half of Marlboro Lights a day, I didn’t ask that useless asshole, my Willpower, to help out. I went straight to my potato soul and he didn’t let me down. To this day, I only smoke when really, really necessary, no more than a few times a year. Willpower had nothing to do with it. It was pure laziness, the laziness of the prairie tundra. I lived across the street from a 7-11 at the time, but it was cold out and there were stairs. My laziness can beat up your honor student, any time.

I wonder how they do it — or don’t do it — somewhere like California, where there’s no excuse not to go out into the mild night, when it’s even kind of nice to feel the soft warmish air, where you could run in your pajamas to your car and drive barefoot to the store and not have to be chipped out of your driver’s seat later by hordes of uniformed people bundled up and leaking steam like something out of E.T. How do you quit anything when everything’s so easy to obtain? In the time it takes me to get psyched, get dressed and warm up the car to buy a gallon of milk, somebody in California can buy a pound of crack, smoke it, do some Pilates, have unsafe sex with someone unsuitable, and work on their screenplay for half an hour.

So, I stay here. I make some unsightly dents in my cashmere sweater and I use every safety pin in the house and I write my column after all because my desire to be warm and inside has never let me down yet.  I saved 8 bucks tonight easy due to pure unwillingness to be shod.

Maybe you’re asking the wrong inner voice to help you out. Virtue is fine, but sometimes a good vice can keep you off the streets and out of your wallet, too.

Stay warm. Write more.

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