counting the ciggie butts at 2.16 am

It's a clear night.
Slightly, yummily, nice.
Just back from the balcony.
There isn't much to do at 2.16 am.
So I smoked another cigarrete, perhaps the fifteenth.
Or was it the seventh? Can't be sure about the numericals.
But I did count the cigeratte butts in the biggish 'ash-tray' they have here.
There were thirty-seven of them butts, but here's the if: I could have counted wrong.
Then again, I spent enough time to give it a second go, and recounted...only to stop at 37.
Do people smoke so much in office, or is it my imagination and acute sense solitary inanity?
Since I can't make this line longer than the previous one, it was time well spent. Well, almost.