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caught smoking The studio where I work, and let’s face it basically live, is right across the street from my day job. When I want something to snack on, I walk over to my space and get it. If I need my sunglasses or wallet, I do the same, and when I want to smoke a bowl it’s most definitely the place I retreat to. Now this may sound extreme, or at least neurotic, but I lock the door behind me when I enter my space, no matter the purpose. I am not exaggerating when I say that I often lock it just to cross the room and reach into the refrigerator for a bite to eat. Seriously. It’s a habit, but a good one, and I do it so often and without thinking about it that I really believe it happens mostly from muscle memory now. Locking a door when one is about to smoke marijuana makes sense, if you do not want the fact that you are partaking broadcast to people passing by. Even when I am in the building alone, at 4am, I still lock my door when I go to the bathroom, just in case somebody is tempted to try something unsavory while I am occupied. I’m not suggesting my neighbors are out there, just waiting for the chance to sneak in and steal from me, but I can’t be sure they aren’t either. Since construction began, the number of random people in the building has dwindled considerably, so I worry about that less and less every day. I lock my door to take away the possibility, and eliminate temptation. I lock it to be safe, and I think it’s a smart thing to do. All of this isn’t to illustrate how weird I am, but to make it clear that there are very few instances where I will leave the door to my studio unlocked, even when I am inside it. However, for reasons I simply cannot recall, I did just that two days ago. Walking into my space, I not only forgot to lock the door behind me, I also managed to leave it slightly ajar. Then, like the smart fucker I am, I sat down at my desk and began smoking weed in the darkness. I was in the middle of inhaling when I heard what I thought was knocking at the door to the studio next to mine, and for one brief moment I imagined my neighbor was entering her space. Five seconds later my door suddenly began to swing open, and the face of our UPS man appeared. Lungs full of pot smoke, I stood and walked toward him, examining the package he had and informing him the tenant was no longer occupying the space before sending him on his way. I did my best to hold in as much of the smoke as I could while I talked, but unless he’s a total square, the driver saw and smelled what I’d been up to. Now it behooves me to add that, in the 6 or 7 months I have been renting this space, I have had less than five people knock on my door, and never received a UPS package I had to sign for. I barely even get mail, and for the longest time I had to go outside and meet the pizza delivery guy because we didn’t even have numbers on the building. All this is to say it seems pretty unlikely and coincidental that on the one day I forget to lock my door a package I need to sign for, that is not even for me, arrives. Figure that one out… |
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