It started with the pot. My wife had texted me, while I was at work on Friday, that she stopped at a dispensary and bought some flower. “Party weekend!” That day the dispensary was having a special sale to the first 200 people who came into the store. For $40 dollars she had gotten a quarter of 4 different strains, two packages of gummies, 8 prerolls, and some resin that measured out at 79% THC. It was an unnecessary amount of pot for people that barely smoke and were self-identifiable lightweights.
After work, I went to the store and bought snacks. Ice cream, sorbet, cookies, and a 7% hazy ipa that was $2 cheaper than the shandy I really wanted.
My job did drug testing if ever I needed to go to the emergency room. Since I started 2 years ago, I have gone exactly three times for injuries I obtained while working. So roughly one every 8 months. It had been nearly 8 months since the last time I had gone.
Friday night became a blur. Turns out they just keep making pot stronger. There were bong hits before cooking. We cracked open beers with dinner. We ate on the couch in front of the television. There was a show about someone going to kill themselves and then at the end found the will the live. When my computer momentarily glitched out, I thought I was hallucinating. My computer was just slow and trying to open and or close multiple files at once. At least that is what I tell myself as I was really high and can’t be entirely sure.
At one point I walked around the backyard taking pictures of our garden. Later I uploaded them to Instagram after putting enough filters on them to make them appear superbright and oversaturated. Another artificial reality of the internet.
We spent Saturday morning doing a lot of yard work after eating a decadent breakfast. I completed half of the things I wanted to do that weekend before my wife suggested another toke break. I never completed the other half. We watched the fourth installment of the Terminator series. The fictional world with its corporate AI takeover feeling more like a prediction of our current timeline.
Sunday morning, we slept in late, achieved little success in anything resembling adulting, and ate dinner late. I abstained from any more pot. We watched an episode of White Lotus. I silently became distraught over the beast that raised its head with the themes of colonialism, consumerism, and the dying American empire. Laughing at the reality until I quickly examined my own life.
My wife went to bed and I sat with the cats listening to Radiohead’s Ok Computer. I stared at our shelves of books; many I had compulsively bought yet not read. Then I went to start another load of laundry. Every moment I kept thinking I couldn’t stop anything. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last, but I had the urge to throw everything away. To strive for net zero existence. Erase my carbon footprint. Create a sense of balance in life.
It was too late to call any family members and have a deep meaning of life conversation with them. Instead, I showered and thought about seeing a psychologist. Then I considered how drastically my life would change if I was prescribed a benzodiazepine. What else could I do? Cut down screen time? Touch grass every day? I recently bought copies of Gravity’s Rainbow and a book by Knausgaard. But reading them just felt like a distraction. I started washing dishes and my cat meowed at me until I stopped and sat on the couch with it. I stayed there until it fell asleep, I was again left with my thoughts.