Marijuana dispensaries are not some place I care to be in.
My mom called me one afternoon and asked me if I was going to be busy on Thursday.
She knew Thursday was my day off, and if she called, she needed a ride some place. Mom seldom called just to talk. She wasn’t a phone 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 days 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 smell 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 smell 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 stand the smell. 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 we 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.