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March 3, 2010
My mom called twice this evening: once while I was at work and again when I got home. "Do you have any pot?" she asked. "My legs are killing me tonight." I pictured her sitting down somewhere with a straight face, enduring the muscle spasms in her legs. I apologized and said there was nothing I could do--I don't even like pot. When we both lived in Florida, I remember cruising down the Courtney Campbell in search of it. I lost myself in the process, but I'm still not sure if this was a good thing or bad thing.