09-20-2023, 12:16 AM
Okay, LCF and I got together with DM today for our 24th anniversary. Of all places, we ate at Marie Callendars. I only mention this because we already told DM this story. But for the rest of you...
This happened in Wenatchee, WA, while visiting LCF's sister Terri and her husband John. So, we’ve prepared dinner and decide to eat downstairs where we can watch TV. I can make it down the stairs, because the railings are solid and close enough to grip together. Lady Cranefly does a couple extra trips getting my plate and drink down. Out of kindness Lori’s sister Terri gives me the remote and carte blank on what to watch. First we watch a glass-blowing show, mostly for Lady Cranefly’s benefit. After that-- Well, we no longer have Netflix, but they do, so this is the perfect opportunity to watch Black Mirror’s first episode which features Salma Hayek (recommended by DM).
It’s an enjoyable enough experience, though I don’t follow it all, because I left my hearing aids upstairs and don’t want to trouble anyone to fetch them. When it’s over, we decide to go upstairs into the living room for a bit.
It takes me a couple tries to get up from the sofa. Not surprising, and it happens fairly often. But when I do get up, I realize something is terribly wrong. My condition has gotten much worse. I manage to make it up the stairs, by pulling myself up by the banisters. But at the top, I can barely stand. I don’t want to tell anyone, so I retreat into the living room and sit down.
The others chat a bit, and then John and Terri go to bed early. This is normal. I then ask Lady Cranefly if she will carry my laptop into the bedroom. She says of course. “And then,” I say, “come back and get me.” She doesn’t understand at first. So I tell her, “It’s gotten a lot worse.” And it has. Up to now, there’s been no dizziness. My balance is crap, but I just don’t know my boy’s orientation. No Mr. Bedspin, which I’m familiar with from past (rare) drinking excesses. But now I’m dizzy, and somewhat nauseous from it. And my arms-- I can’t judge their weight. When I hold them out, they float all over the place. I’m thinking this has advanced to the point I may not be able to remain productive.
Lady Cranefly helps me into the bathroom, and I need help in there. Then she helps me into bed. Somewhere in all this she mentions feeling high herself. And she encourages me to wait until morn and see how I feel then. I am not hopeful at all.
Come morning, I feel the same. I get up, navigate with the wall into the living room. I drink a coffee, then another, and only then do I start edging out of it.
So indeed, Lady Cranefly was right. Terri and John make marijuana-laced butter. Not that we had any butter, but the remains are called crumbles, and they are kept in a dish up on a shelf. Terri insists it stayed up there, and we’d have to work to get into it. But Lady Cranefly and I are of the opinion that it was set down with the rest of the food, right next to and very similar to a bowl of salt and a bowl of pepper.
So, yeah, we dosed ourselves. I really dosed myself, unless I’ve gotten hypersensitive to weed. It wouldn’t be the first thing. I used to cut all the onions to spare Lady Cranefly the tears. It never phased me. Now Lady Cranefly has to do it. If I try, I end up in a sneezing fit, unable to see, eyes watering like mad, endlessly blowing my nose, out of commission for 20 minutes. I’ve also gotten hypersensitive to getting shampoo in my eyes. After the last episode, it took me over a day to recover. Now I use J&J Baby shampoo, known to be very mild. Even then, I keep my eyes tightly closed.
The moral of the story is, don’t get what I have.
This happened in Wenatchee, WA, while visiting LCF's sister Terri and her husband John. So, we’ve prepared dinner and decide to eat downstairs where we can watch TV. I can make it down the stairs, because the railings are solid and close enough to grip together. Lady Cranefly does a couple extra trips getting my plate and drink down. Out of kindness Lori’s sister Terri gives me the remote and carte blank on what to watch. First we watch a glass-blowing show, mostly for Lady Cranefly’s benefit. After that-- Well, we no longer have Netflix, but they do, so this is the perfect opportunity to watch Black Mirror’s first episode which features Salma Hayek (recommended by DM).
It’s an enjoyable enough experience, though I don’t follow it all, because I left my hearing aids upstairs and don’t want to trouble anyone to fetch them. When it’s over, we decide to go upstairs into the living room for a bit.
It takes me a couple tries to get up from the sofa. Not surprising, and it happens fairly often. But when I do get up, I realize something is terribly wrong. My condition has gotten much worse. I manage to make it up the stairs, by pulling myself up by the banisters. But at the top, I can barely stand. I don’t want to tell anyone, so I retreat into the living room and sit down.
The others chat a bit, and then John and Terri go to bed early. This is normal. I then ask Lady Cranefly if she will carry my laptop into the bedroom. She says of course. “And then,” I say, “come back and get me.” She doesn’t understand at first. So I tell her, “It’s gotten a lot worse.” And it has. Up to now, there’s been no dizziness. My balance is crap, but I just don’t know my boy’s orientation. No Mr. Bedspin, which I’m familiar with from past (rare) drinking excesses. But now I’m dizzy, and somewhat nauseous from it. And my arms-- I can’t judge their weight. When I hold them out, they float all over the place. I’m thinking this has advanced to the point I may not be able to remain productive.
Lady Cranefly helps me into the bathroom, and I need help in there. Then she helps me into bed. Somewhere in all this she mentions feeling high herself. And she encourages me to wait until morn and see how I feel then. I am not hopeful at all.
Come morning, I feel the same. I get up, navigate with the wall into the living room. I drink a coffee, then another, and only then do I start edging out of it.
So indeed, Lady Cranefly was right. Terri and John make marijuana-laced butter. Not that we had any butter, but the remains are called crumbles, and they are kept in a dish up on a shelf. Terri insists it stayed up there, and we’d have to work to get into it. But Lady Cranefly and I are of the opinion that it was set down with the rest of the food, right next to and very similar to a bowl of salt and a bowl of pepper.
So, yeah, we dosed ourselves. I really dosed myself, unless I’ve gotten hypersensitive to weed. It wouldn’t be the first thing. I used to cut all the onions to spare Lady Cranefly the tears. It never phased me. Now Lady Cranefly has to do it. If I try, I end up in a sneezing fit, unable to see, eyes watering like mad, endlessly blowing my nose, out of commission for 20 minutes. I’ve also gotten hypersensitive to getting shampoo in my eyes. After the last episode, it took me over a day to recover. Now I use J&J Baby shampoo, known to be very mild. Even then, I keep my eyes tightly closed.
The moral of the story is, don’t get what I have.