Marijuana dispensaries are not some arena I care to be in.
My mom called me one afternoon and asked me if I was going to be tied up on Sunday, but she knew Sunday was my afternoon off, and if she called, she needed a ride some arena.
Mom seldom called just to talk. She wasn’t a cellphone person, years ago, she had to give up driving because she couldn’t see well enough. I didn’t mind driving her around when dad was at work, but I asked if she would check with me a couple of mornings ahead of time. I didn’t want to make plans if mom was going to need me. She asked if I would take her to the marijuana dispensary to get her pain medicine. I hated the marijuana dispensary. The aroma always turns my stomach. The first time I took mom there, I walked into the marijuana dispensary with her, and walked right back out. The aroma made me so nauseous that I thought I was going to throw up on the floor. Mom rushed out to make sure I was okay. I told her I was fine, but I couldn’t sit the aroma. This time, she promised I wouldn’t need to get out of the car. She put an order in online, and the marijuana dispensary would bring it to the window so my buddy and I didn’t have to get out of the car. Mom was always thinking ahead, and this was perfect for me. I didn’t mind that she used medical marijuana, but I just hated going to the marijuana dispensary.