When I moved into my current house, I had the sweetest and friendliest neighbor. Her name was Primrose. Her name alone was sweet enough. I just had to get used to the loud rock Christian music. That lasted 4 months and finally I got round to saying hello. 6 months later, I came back from a work trip and she was gone! She had moved out!
I have a new neighbor now. Peaceful, gentle, and quite a respectful lad. He has some nice-looking dreadlocks and an eccentric beard. I think he is an artist, I have seen some sculptures and other artistic perephenalia outside his door.
There’s a sticker of a lion on his door, the lion of Judah I think. He always says hello with a huge and somewhat wry smile. Whenever we have those rare 2-second small talks, he always has a nice parting shot like, “blessed” or “give thanks and praise”.
However, like many artists I know, his creativity is magically activated by lighting up a joint!
I am now forced to take a few puffs every time he lights up a joint. Why is that? Secondary smoke. It’s 2 months running now and I am a worried man.
I’ve been acting up all giddy lately and the castles I have been building in the air and above the seas, only God can work out those kinds of architectural plans.
See, the secondary smoke is just as deadly. More than half the people exposed to secondary smoke end up being addicts (don’t look up those stats; I made them up). In fact, my uncle told me that secondary smoke is worse because it also contains the poisonous smoke from the burning papers that are used to roll up the joint.
I have been thinking of possible ways to save the situation; the immediate near-term solution is to purchase a gas mask. At the other extreme end of the solution line is to move out. I have contemplated approaching the caretaker but I killed the idea when I noticed that they were now best buds…..for obvious reasons. I wouldn’t be surprised if he swoops into his place to collect a jointlet every so often, perhaps as part of the rent, you never know.
I have also killed the idea of asking friends for help. One of them recently said to me, “but weed is not so bad”. Argh!
Primrose, please come back!
For the rest of you, if you see me all smiley and overly joyful, you know what is going on.
For now, let me just ‘give thanks and praise’.