Well, it's been a week since I rolled into Colorado. I've been hiking every day, I have a beautiful panoramic view of the mountains from my porch, Monday I start my first piano student, and I'm preparing to teach music at a few schools this fall. I've encountered many pleasant surprises with my transition.
I've also encountered more high people in one week than in my entire life combined. (And this includes spending a good amount of time in LA comedy clubs.)
The morning after I moved in my neighbor from across the street came outside while I unloaded my car.
"Did you meet my dog?" she asked.
I looked around to see if she was talking to me, since I hadn't ever even met her, much less her dog.
She walked over and shoved a tiny, shivering dog into my arms.
"He's my therapy dog. He's helping me with my panic attacks and anxiety," she told me.
I looked down at the shaking micro-dog in my arms, who was now nervously clawing at my jacket.
"I think your therapy dog needs a therapy dog," I thought to myself.
"My last therapy dog got stolen out of my hotel room. I was so traumatized. I moved to Colorado for the medical marijuana."
I was so confused. Were those two separate thoughts? Did she move because the abduction of her therapy dog distressed her so much she needed powerful opiates to get over it? I don't know. She kept talking while I ran through my mental inventory of responses for high people but I didn't have many because I don't speak Highnese. Fortunately, I didn't have to think of anything because she changed the subject.
"The doctor prescribed me opiate drops, you know."
"Nice," I replied, trying to hand her back her dog, which for some inexplicable reason I was still holding.
"No, not nice!" she exclaimed. She pulled a red bottle out of her purse. "One drop too many and these will kill you!"
Nothing makes you feel more like an ignorant, over sheltered homeschooler than getting reprimanded by your high neighbor about your lack of opiate knowledge.
"Wow, that's crazy." I said. "Well, I've got to go finish unloading this stuff from my car. It was nice to meet you and your dog!"
I gave her back her dog. She cuddled him close.
"He's my therapy dog. I love him."
"I know," I said in a Hans-Soloish tone and walked away.
To be continued, I'm sure...
"One drop too many and these will kill you!" Be careful if she invites you over for tea. Or at least switch the cups when she isn't looking. Unless it's in both because she has built up an immunity to the opiates over the years.
Bizarre! Welcome to Colorado friend!
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