Member-only story
Marijuana? Yes, no, maybe.
A few weeks ago, at the fire festival in the city, a guy walked up to me asking “Would you like to buy a weed grinder?”
I replied, “I don’t even know what that is.”
He told me.
I replied, “Do I look like a person who smokes weed?”
He back-pedalled, “ Oh, I don’t judge people by looks.”
I don’t smoke so smoking something other than tobacco doesn’t come naturally to me.
The first time I smoked pot, I was 33 and had 4 children, the youngest was a 6-month-old baby. My husband did the carpet cleaning and pest control at his mate’s house and got paid in pot. He was happy. I was not. I would have preferred cash.
After the kids were in bed, he encouraged me to try some. We were watching “The Three Stooges” and I have to tell you I’ve never laughed so much in my life. I could not stop laughing. I laughed myself to sleep.
The next morning, Lloyd went off to work, the kids went to school and I was left at home with my six-month-old baby. It’s hard to explain what happened next. I thought there was a cliff in our front yard and I was terrified the baby would fall over it. I was also frightened the police knew there was marijuana in the house and were planning a raid.
