Cannabis for autists
I’ve decided to obtain an edible for the second time in my life today (also the second time I’ve used cannabis at all), and it low-key stresses me out.
For starters, I’ve gotta make sure I don’t have any plans (not hard when introverted), but also, if the chance of rain is 14% or higher, I’m gonna need the giant waterproof backpack for the walk to the dispensary, which I don’t want to be judged for because it looks like a yellow camping trip that could fit a large child (despite only containing the raincoat, rain pants — highly recommend — , glasses case, water bottle, backup grocery bag, backup wired headphones, sunglasses, hand sanitizer, and other things I don’t leave home without, now occasionally including backup bike helmet). And we don’t want to go in the first place if it’s too hot or too late in the day, on account of smelling unpleasant and looking like a wet teenage weirdo or just not having enough time to plan and experience The Afternoon Experience safely and correctly.
But today we’re determined, on account of having two $20 bills, a lot of not-90-degree-Fahrenheit day still ahead, and a smaller and much more discreet necessity pack usually reserved for meeting friends at eateries, despite the rain threat. Plus, we’ve researched the entire menu in advance and come up with a queue of three choices in case they run out of anything. Plus, my darn foot kinda hurts again, and the only other time I took an edible, it magically stopped throbbing for a whole six hours.
The guy at the front is amazingly nice and reassures me that it’s “just like a store, and you’ll be fine!” and I present my ID and everything is behind glass and I pretend to totally know what I’m doing. I see the thing I want on display and pretend to browse for 5 more minutes as a lady who does know what she’s doing pays for like five kinds of leaves. Then I go over to the register guy and ask for the hybrid salted chocolate bar, and he runs off to the back and I provide eye contact upon paying in cash and making sure to use the correct exit with my brown bag.
I spend a little more time than planned out walking in the Sunday rain, but we’re still on schedule for Eating A Triangle Of It before doing some light programming or watching Schitt’s Creek until something happens.
But we can’t get started until, 1) the rain-soaked backpack is unloaded and put through the delicate wash, 2) the floors are swept due to said rain reliably bringing in extra shoe grime, 3) the bag is hung to dry after the 35 minute cycle ends, 4) the normal laundry is also started (preferably transferred to the dryer as well), 5) facial shaving is complete, as every other day is shaving day since I will not delude myself into thinking I can grow anything dignified (nor can I stand the sensation half the time), 6) the water bottle, headphones, keys, and phone case are properly rinsed and/or wiped down as one does when coming indoors, 7) the hallux rigidus has been preventatively iced for 15 minutes, 8) frankly, we’ve shat, and 9) we’ve showered, so that Eating A Triangle Of It will be done in a clean, crisp, comfortable, and all-around ~nice~ mental state.
I realize that this state is probably the whole point of cannabis to begin with.
It’s now 16:49, and I haven’t finished the Preliminary Tasks, so we might have to save the chocolate square for next weekend so as not to disrupt the sunflower seed butter sandwich dinner timeslot.
Oh, well.
