'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

contact highs

It's been a weekend of those, for sure.  Big part of it:  the weather has turned spring-like, for the first time this year.  There's really nothing else like that, and it's probably the best thing about living in Michigan.  I put screens in some of the windows, and may do more; I got started with the yard work for the season.  And of course Friday I had the big TV finale night, and attendant enjoyments.  It really was good stuff.  And I'm not sad and anticipating missing it.  I'm just grateful, and happy.  This part is especially nice.

Also yesterday I got a sudden yen for a boba (no coincidence) and up and headed off to the bubble tea shop.  On the way I saw lotsa people on the streets in clusters, looking happy, and "of course," I thought, "it's that first warm day", though there did seem to be a lot of them, maybe there was a college sporting event of some sort, though they weren't dressed like that.  "Hey, that's reefer I smell through my open car windows.  How spring-like."  Then I saw the sign outside the landmark liquor store greeting the revellers, and had to laugh at myself that I hadn't realized these were celebraters from Hash Bash.

I drove along among them, and after several blocks of slowly breathing the waftings of their now-less-illegal doobies, I wondered whether I had a contact high of the classic sort.  I skipped trying to get my bubble tea, and headed for the hardware store I buy leaf bags at.  Walking in from the car I was flying like an airplane, but I do that not infrequently, when definitely not high.  Of course I also might've looked like I came from Hash Bash, as I wandered among the colorful housewears for fun, cuz I was wearing my Dr. Seuss one-fish-two-fish shirt (a poetry thing for me but a stoner thing for some), which t'boot looked like I'd done a very high person's half-assed tie-dying of it, on accounta it was in the dryer recently when a blue pen I'd missed burst in there, and the shirt was one of the items the ink got to, in splotchy bits here and there.  Then I got gas and a new gas-station-machine milkshake in "cake batter" flavor, at a Speedway where some customers did seem to be Hash Bashers on their way back outta town.  And then I drove through the car wash for the sensory experience of it.

However much I'd inhaled, it occured to me that I really don't need to be high any more to act like and even feel like my favorite parts of being high.  Not that I get that experience very much.  But I do get it sometimes.

Curiosity; courage; therapy; recovery; art; grace.  :)

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