There isn’t any good way for me to tell this to you. I can’t think of a single way to soften the blow. . .

The blow. That’s funny. We’ve counted 3 times. Today I found another one. There are 21 medical marijuana shops traveling from my house, down a major arterial into the city,  and ending downtown.

Twenty-one gigantic green pluses (+) all along the road. These mark the blessed spots where the water grows greener. The pot shops.

There are more pot shops in this 5 mile drive than there are coffee shops. I live near Seattle. Go figure.

My Primary Care Provider (read… doctor) has tried to convince me to use the green lung goo for several years. I suppose he feels that Bp 1, OA, FM, anxiety, and ADHD are a bit much to handle. Hmm… and chronic pain from bulging disks and arthritis (specifically in my lower back) and that it might relieve my pain (read “issues”, loving referred to as my “alphabet soup”).

Nah, I don’t think so. I visited an old work friend who has been on the stuff for years (beginning before it was legal here) and I tell you after I visited her and her husband at their multi-generational home… I think not.

That’s a NO.

I’m not going to go into my specific reasons about this issue because I’m only writing to tell you this one immutable fact:

THERE ARE 21 POT shops BETWEEN my HOUSE and DOWNTOWN.

5 miles.

21 pot shops.

Forget my alphabet soup my friend.

That’s a bit too much.

21.

{If you disparage of my use of the term “pot shop”, you are thinking this thing through way too hard.}