If someone told my son, “Dude, your mom is stoned,” he might be somewhat confused. Not the person saying it, but my son.
I was never much of a hippie or a drug person. In fact, I’ve written about getting drugs just by saying “No” to your doctor. Doctors consider a naysayer a challenge, and they will push scrips on this person faster than a car salesman adds ‘rust proofing’ to the underside of a new car and charges an extra 2k for it.
However, Nevada has made Mary Jane legal for recreational and medicinal use, so we can now go to a boutique store without a ‘medical card’ and order up all number of fun things. Treats to eat, baggies of weed, vape pipes.
I did my due diligence on the whole shebang and wanted to try the benefits of pot for pain. I didn’t want to take the pills anymore that tear up your insides like a kid tears the wrapping paper on a present.
I called a store after perusing its website. I originally wanted the Gummi worms. Who wouldn’t want to eat marijuana-laced Gummi worms? And after checking the prices for all the marijuana options, I couldn’t imagine anyone just giving it away to a trick or treater. That was one of the arguments against legalizing it.
Please. Many voters are old enough to remember Reefer Madness and we’re not falling for the scare tactics again, people.
The young woman I spoke to (can we call them baristas, a la Starbucks?) recommended a vape with no psychoactive ingredient, something she uses herself for migraines. I wanted that, because I already do my share of sitting around, and didn’t want to ingest anything that encouraged more of it.
I also do my share of staring into space thinking of weird and funny things, and weed might make this easier. Except I wouldn’t be able to write down my thoughts and make sense of them later. I did pet a small shrub once, and say “Nice, kitty,” after drinking one and a half margaritas, and I still remember that. So does my family, unfortunately.
So I sent the MOTH (man of the house) down to buy me a vape thingy with no getting high stuff in it. What does he bring me? One with half and half. I took five tokes on it and immediately after ate three avocados that were in the fruit basket in the kitchen. Man, they tasted good. The best avocados I ever ate.
I’m not sure what benefit I’ve gotten for pain from my little pipe, but it does help me fall asleep. I get nice and groggy, not an unusual situation either, and fall asleep within minutes. I like that. It’s better than taking cough syrup, which really makes me feel like a drug addict.
The whole thing feels really strange. I spent my parenting years telling my son not to do drugs or drink, and now that he’s grown, that’s what I’m doing, and right in front of the family.
But I know it’s all good, because the other day there was an afternoon show across the street involving our loud neighbors and their landlord–our former neighbor. There were crowds of people over there in front of the house. Watching the traffic go in and out over there can make you feel stoned without weed. That house is packed. I watch them and try to place everyone: “Okay, that’s the lady that comes over and babysits. That’s one of the sons. That one…well, that one might be their chiropodist. How many is that? Twenty, so far?”
The landlord had brought over two guys who appeared to be construction contractors. He got raided by the sheriff a month ago for an illegal apartment in the house. That’s what law enforcement does now. Forget the pot, we got illegal apartments to bust into.
The twenty something sons, some other guy and his girlfriend, another young woman who came from around the side of the house, were all outside yelling that pot was legal. A cop had showed up too, and was trying to referee the whole mess.
I don’t know what pot had to do with anything, I was focused on the fact that the girlfriend (who claimed to “know people” and said she worked with lawyers) was saying that she had a “perfect right to visit there” and that the landlord was to blame for their bedbugs.
How this is possible, unless the landlord regularly transports bedbugs there in matchboxes and sets them free in his own house, I don’t know. And if she’s “just visiting,” how does she know for sure about the bedbugs? Maybe she’s bringing them in. Maybe the bedbugs are stoned.
At any rate, my dream of a sleepover at their house was dashed.
What I do know is that it was really fun watching it all from behind the fluttering curtain while smoking a vape pen full of psychoactive drugs, and hissing at the dogs next door to “Shut up, already!” I was trying to hear and that dog was seriously interfering with my snooping.
Snoopy neighbor ladies have changed a lot from the Peyton Place days, huh?