When the pandemic hit, I was in between homes.
My bestie had kicked me out, and I was trying to find another spot to crash when the quarantine went into effect; with no other locale to turn, I went to my Grandfather’s cabin and asked him to take me in, however I knew it would be an adjustment…
But I needed shelter and a locale to sleep, and of course Grandpa had me covered. My third afternoon there, I went out onto the back patio to light-up some cannabis, and Grandpa walked out and sat down next to me. Much to my surprise, he pulled out a big, antique glass jar filled with light and fluffy yellow cannabis buds. I was smoking the garbage weed, but Grandpa obviously had a hook up at the cannabis dispensary, because this was brand name stuff! I had heard about Purple Haze all my life, mostly thanks to rap music and Jimi Hendrix… But I had never seen it before! Nonetheless I smoked it, but grandpa chided me for bringing such disgusting marijuana into his house, and insisted I throw it out and smoke his weed instead. I didn’t really feel all that comfortable about throwing away any marijuana, even if it was ditch weed, however he insisted. “If you are staying with me, you will not partake of that kind of marijuana, around here all of us also smoke the best cannabis.” It turns out Grandpa had a prescription for cannabis, and since his insurance covered it he went to the dispensary every single week for a modern batch of chronic. I may actually live here for good!