Not too bright.

Thursday night I wasn't too bright and was even less so last night.

Thursday I got a few bucks for odds and ends and used some to buy a 20 piece. It wasn't bad, but after it was gone, wanting more was nagging at me for the rest of the night. That was the worst of it. No IBI lurking outside my windows, no weird psychotic reactions or panic attack type of behaviors on my part. The jones was it so far as negative consequences, along with 20 dollars puffed away in about a half hour or so.

I smoked a little weed, went to bed and got up early Friday morning.

Don, my neighbor has a thing about hurrying up to wait. We go to a food bank that opens their doors at 9:00A.M. but doesn't start distribution until 9:30. I keep telling him if he goes about an hour or so later, you breeze right through. There is no advantage to being first in line. Everyone who shows up gets as much when they are first or if they are last.

We arrived at 8:50 and were back home by 10:00. If I had left at 10, I would have been back home by 10:20. Don likes to hurry up and wait.

With my decidedly unhurried and uncluttered social and work schedules there is no need to rush. As a matter of fact, rushing around has not been part of my life for quite some time. There are a lot of reasons for that, first and foremost though is that I can't hurry. Physically can't hurry.

It may also be a good thing that I don't own a car right now as well, as there might be an urge to over compensate for that physical slowness.

The money I'm saving on speeding tickets.

A little later in the day Don stops back with a bottle of the finest bottom shelf whiskey produced in the world. The name of this crap escapes me at the moment and if I could remember the name, I would never buy it anyway. I probably got down about six or eight ounces of the stuff to Don's 12 ounces or more before calling it quits. He took the rest of his bottle and left.

I wasn't feeling too awful bad and spent a few hours doing my best to stay cool.

Just as I'm getting ready to turn on the TV and watch the news, guess who's at my door again. Don and his occasional drinking buddy show up with another bottle. They pooled resources to buy some of their favorite vodka, which is decidedly worse than the rot gut whiskey I tasted earlier.

I didn't drink any more of that crap, and quite possibly less than the whiskey. Whatever the reason though, that stuff hit me like a Mack truck. I was feeling no pain at all and started becoming a little too wobbly. Not good

We visited our other neighbor, who probably had much better things to do than entertain a couple of sloppy drunks. He also didn't have the where with all to kick us out, although I witnessed him tossing unwelcome guests in the past. He was a little buzzed himself, so he seemed to be in a charitable mood. He gave us a few beers and we smoked a bit of his weed.

That's when the bottom feel out.

From what I can remember, he had to drag me into my door, as my legs were nowhere to be found. Later in the night I did manage to crawl into my bed. When I did wake up this morning I was in no mood to move. So for about 2 hours I lay awake, under a fan, trying to work up the courage to get up.

Eventually I did get moving and found my legs had returned.

The thing is, they didn't return happy.