At the time I was living in my van.
COVID had shuttered my business a couple years before, and the lack of income cost me my home.
Soon after that my wife found someone new. She moved out all her stuff and left me a note that she wasn’t coming back. Divorce papers were served to me right before I became homeless. All in all it was not a great year. All I had was my van and my dog Rex. Then I got a visit from Mike, a guy I knew back in school. Mike had gone from being the local cannabis dealer to the local cannabis grower. He had a small pot farm outside of town, and he needed a good worker to help him with the crops. In return for room, board, and all the cannabis I could smoke I would work in his fields. At the time I didn’t know anything about the horticultural side of cannabis, but I was willing to learn. I can’t say that it was easy work, no matter what people think about a cannabis farm being fun. The emphasis in this case is on the “farm” and not the “cannabis” because this is hard, grueling labor for eight to ten hours a day. By the end of the day I was usually too tired to even want to smoke any cannabis, I just wanted to go to sleep. Mike has been kind to me so far, and since I haven’t been smoking much of his cannabis he has been paying me an hourly wage.