wish me pot luck

July 9, 2018 | Comments Off

Since Mark’s parents are coming to visit this week (lord help me), I decided the weekend before would be a fine time to get my hair done (cut and colored) and to get a mini pedicure (just cut, filed, and painted). I arrived at the hair salon about fifteen minutes early at 11:45, and my stylist took me right away. I was sitting in my colorist’s chair at 12:01. She said she had a client at 12:15. As I was her 12:30, I had to wait. Well, her client didn’t show up until 12:23, so my hair didn’t even get started until about 12:54. I was super annoyed. I know there was no way of knowing that chick would be late, but sitting for an hour also really irritated my back, though I got up to walk and stretch a bit. In my selfish mind, she could have done me and had her 12:15 wait ten minutes. But, yeah, that didn’t happen. Afterwards, I went to the nail salon where a teen boy did my toes. I had never seen him there before, and I thought he was horrible and kinda rude. I mean, he was doing one of my big toes and asked if it was okay to which I said it was. Then I determined I wanted it shorter, and he said, “but you said it was okay” like I wasn’t allowed to change my goddamned mind.

After that, we went to the medical marijuana dispensary. The super chatty security guard said it was empty thirty-five minutes earlier, but it was packed when we arrived. Since it was my first visit, I had to meet with a counselor. Then I had to go back to the lobby to wait before I could go into the store area. I think we waited maybe thirty minutes total, so it wasn’t too bad. The counselor advised me on what I should start with and how much of it to take, and then he told us that there is no limit on how often you can stop by (just once a day, but you could go every single day of the week, if desired) or how much you can buy. In fact, when we were checking out, the guy next to me was placing a huuuuge order – five of this, four of that, three of that, etc. And this shit is expensive! At first I thought he must be selling it. It’s medical grade, so it’s stronger than what you can get on the street, but I can’t believe anyone would pay that much where this guy could make any kind of profit. But what the hell do I know? And, because I am a giant asshole, I was wondering how many people in there really needed it. I get the whole “invisible illness” thing as that is totally what I have, but I still couldn’t help but be my judge-y self. What’s also cool is that after Mark fills out some paperwork that he will be able to get stuff for me without me even having to be there. So here’s hoping it works. I’d like to be able to get rid of one of my daily oxycodone pills, if possible. I’d like to build up a little stash for a rainy day. We will see how it goes.

One of the last things we did was get a collar for our neighbor’s cat (a post about her is forthcoming). I know, I know. She’s had two pink collars since we’ve lived here. The last one didn’t fit her correctly, and it didn’t last. We are surprised that they didn’t replace it, and we want to make sure everyone knows she’s someone’s pet. So we got a reflective/breakaway pink collar for her. She’s tough as nails, so I don’t know how we are going to get this on her. I’m certainly not picking her up because I know she will gut me alive. I told Mark to let me know when he attempts it so that I can have an ambulance on standby.

So I have eleven posts mapped out, and then I’ll feel like I’m mostly caught up with the things that need to be here. These kinds of updates are separate from that. It just feels good to have them organized on paper, though.

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