My boyfriend’s mother is coming to visit, and stay with us for five days in our teeny-tiny Paris apartment with her sister, both of whom smoke a lot. They were so kind to me when I visited, but I had to keep excusing myself to the bathroom to stick my head out the bathroom window to get some fresh air. I woke up in the morning feeling like I myself had smoked a pack of cigarettes. And I’m no rookie to rooms filled with smoke, a frequent partier myself, (not to mention Paris is essentially one big cloud of smoke) but this was next-level.