It sounds like it's sleeting outside, so it probably is.
And oh gawd, I was at one of my clients' homes last week, and the man of the house was home early. He asked if I knew where to get some pot—wish I did, but when I used to smoke, I'd ask people and they'd think I was a narc; now, I know people who smoke it, even grow it, but I'm not in a position to buy, or certainly to refer people.
So he offered me a joint. Uh…don't do that. That's crossing the line—even if I still smoked—to offer a joint to someone who works for you. I just said I couldn't, and even explained that I hadn't in years. Seriously, and I said this: I stopped smoking pot and drinking alcohol because it doesn't affect me the way it does other people. And that's true: after my brain injury, all bets were off. And alcohol got me drunk and hungover at the same time; I finally figured out it wasn't going to get better.
To change the subject, I told him I was in a car accident and had been comatose for a month. "A month?" he said. "Yeah," I said. Looking at CAT scans of my brain, it's like there's a whole blown-out area in the left hemisphere; fortunately, by now the right hemisphere has compensated as much as it's going to.
Unfortunately, I never had a problem with pot—but that's because I never bought it. Anyway, I didn't get stoned, and don't have any regrets.
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