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Hide The Bong

Like the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, my parents, bundle their belongings and head west every year to see their prodigal son... and every year.. I find myself running around trying to find the best hiding spot for my stash.. and every year, I forget where that hiding spot is.. there must be scores of happy and hungry squirrels running around somewhere.. no wait, that would be me.

"Sure mom, I'd love to see you.. what's that ? 3 weeks? Umm... great." I'll see you soon.

With my family visiting a couple times a year, it helps me cut back a little and keeps me in shape - Running up and down stairs, locking the bathroom doors, lighting incense, hanging out windows.. takes a lot out of a guy.

Anyway, out come the cleaning products.. in go the pipes, rollies, bongs, baggies... scales, stems, seeds, screens... It's like I'm 30 all over again and living back home... okay, maybe 29.

I try to look at the bright side.. my parents only come into town once a year.. (separately) My mom is pushing 75 so any time I can spend with her - I'll take. Even if it means running to the bathroom 48 times a day just to suck back some THC.

"Son, are you okay? Did you eat something wrong?"

So for the next 3 weeks either I have a serious stomach problem that causes me to go the can every 30 minutes.. or, I love staying clean with 8 showers a day... either way.. my mom still loves me.

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