Sweaty Spice, the other Spice Girl

Every morning, my dog makes me walk him. No, seriously, he begins with the hang-dog look, then he starts pawing at me, then nudging me to get out of my chair. No later than 6:30 comes before it is WALK TIME.

Before you know it, I am in shoes, and he is leashed up, out the door we go, with a couple of Mutt Mitts for the deuces he will inevitably drop.

But this post isn't about the zen of a 2.5 - 3.5 mile walk through the neighborhood. Nope, it is about the frequency of catching the whiff.

What's "the whiff"? That inescapable aroma of someone smoking cannabis. Sure, I live in California where it is legal. Before it was legal for recreational use, it was legal for medicinal use (since 1996 here). Where I used to say when I caught a "Whiff" that someone was "medicating", now it is far more common, and clearly a lot of people choose to recreate in their back yards.

The culture has always had a "wake and bake" feel to it. That is people who like heavy cigarette smokers who need that first drag, that first hit of nicotine in the morning, instead need that first rush of THC to hit their bloodstream.

Alas, I can't imagine functioning if I was stoned from the moment I woke up in the morning. Perhaps if I had a truly shitty job, like loading boxes at an Amazon fulfillment center, or some other drone-like existence, then I would need that self medication.

So, now I know which neighbors are in that category of wake-and-bake due to my dog walking.

Hooray!


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