OK so earlier on this fine evening I decided to treat myself to 30mg 2C-E while relaxing after a hard day's work.
Everything is/was going swimmingly apart from one major fucking hiccup: encountering my landlord and having to put up with the ensuing verbal diarrhoea and paranoid/delusional ramblings that often leave me questioning his sanity.
Now usually - whether tripping or not - I find his nonsense either mildly irritating or amusing. I've been here for 2 years now so it's something I have grown accustomed to. He lives below me and in all fairness he is a cool landlord - the accomodation is beautiful and he doesn't mind the fact that I smoke weed (fairly heavily might I add). He is, however, blisfully ignorant of my psychedelic consumption.
Anyway: Over the weekend I ended up temporarily adopting a slightly more relaxed attitude towards domestic chores (caused mostly by unholy amounts of cannabis, Valium and 2C-E) which resulted in my accumulation of three teaspoons, a butter knife and a saucer in my bedroom. I know... I'm disgusting.
So about an hour into the peak of tonight's chemical tomfoolery, I was aroused from my state of bliss and meditation by the call of a landlord in distress. He was standing in the kitchen, alarmed by the shortage of teaspoons and highly suspicious. He actually had the nerve to ask me this question: "Are you using crack?"
Naturally I saw red (I mean I literally saw red because of the 2C-E). I raced to the top of the staircase and gave him a severe dressing down. He was apologising profusely but I was still royally pissed off with him. I honestly think had he come upstairs and asked me that question to my face, I would have got up off the couch and smacked him.
Really - what the fuck kind of question is that to ask to a hard-working, athletic and tidy tenant who has never been late with the rent? It's tantamount to asking someone if they're a pedophile.
Anybody else ever had to deal with this kind of bullshit? How did you compose yourself?
Everything is/was going swimmingly apart from one major fucking hiccup: encountering my landlord and having to put up with the ensuing verbal diarrhoea and paranoid/delusional ramblings that often leave me questioning his sanity.
Now usually - whether tripping or not - I find his nonsense either mildly irritating or amusing. I've been here for 2 years now so it's something I have grown accustomed to. He lives below me and in all fairness he is a cool landlord - the accomodation is beautiful and he doesn't mind the fact that I smoke weed (fairly heavily might I add). He is, however, blisfully ignorant of my psychedelic consumption.
Anyway: Over the weekend I ended up temporarily adopting a slightly more relaxed attitude towards domestic chores (caused mostly by unholy amounts of cannabis, Valium and 2C-E) which resulted in my accumulation of three teaspoons, a butter knife and a saucer in my bedroom. I know... I'm disgusting.
So about an hour into the peak of tonight's chemical tomfoolery, I was aroused from my state of bliss and meditation by the call of a landlord in distress. He was standing in the kitchen, alarmed by the shortage of teaspoons and highly suspicious. He actually had the nerve to ask me this question: "Are you using crack?"
Naturally I saw red (I mean I literally saw red because of the 2C-E). I raced to the top of the staircase and gave him a severe dressing down. He was apologising profusely but I was still royally pissed off with him. I honestly think had he come upstairs and asked me that question to my face, I would have got up off the couch and smacked him.
Really - what the fuck kind of question is that to ask to a hard-working, athletic and tidy tenant who has never been late with the rent? It's tantamount to asking someone if they're a pedophile.
Anybody else ever had to deal with this kind of bullshit? How did you compose yourself?
