Life changes have been happening on a grand scale around these parts lately. The back story shall follow one day but currently I find myself having landed in a one bedroom apartment in a complex that seems to be completely inhabited by the entire pot smoking population of this city.
That’s right…the entire pot smoking population of this city…right here in my complex.
Super.
When I first moved in I was aware that my apartment had this…uh…scent about it. I just assumed it was that the previous tenant smoked cigarettes in here and I was smelling the leftover stench.
Yeah. Not the case.
The smell, I found out, is actually every single neighbor I have toking up at all hours of the day and night thereby clogging the air ducts with the poignant skunk smell which no matter what scent of candle from Bath and Body Works I burn or how many I light at the same time I can’t get it to dissipate. Even my kick ass Balsam Fir candle is no match for the great ganja aroma that has permeated this enitre place.
I’ve been here for a week and have witnessed girls who by all accounts appear much younger than I (and one looked pregnant no less) sitting out in the common courtyard rolling and then smoking a joint. Can we pause here and just say – ‘Yay for the future!’
Walking past other apartments I find myself going though these “clouds” of smell…someone isn’t ventilating cautiously…then again I don’t think they really care.
Today I got home and was laying in bed looking out my sliding door where three guys were in the parking lot and just plopped down on a curb and proceeded to puff puff pass right then and there.
I’m beginning to wonder if there was something I missed in the lease agreement that required me to be stoned at least part of the day…like a Pothead HOA kind of deal. Which kind of concerns me. Will I be evicted for a lack of Bob Marley posters in my apartment?
Beings that I live in the desert and it’s fucking hot I have no choice but to keep running my A/C which isn’t helping the stink in my place via air duct contamination. But on the bright side at least now I understand why I’ve gone through seven bags of Cheetos since I moved in!
