They don’t deliver to my spot yet, laaaaaame. South Tabor isn’t exactly in the sticks. sheesh.
This does make me long for my days in Boston, I’d get deliveries from this bike messenger/perpetually angry hippie. Dude was almost always on time. Except when he forgot he was supposed to come by.
Some days I’m not sure I’m down for rec sales. It’s nice having a weed shop at the end of my street, sure. But I miss the random encounters with sketchy people, and giving norm tourists directions to the dispensary is dumb. (FTR I tell them I don’t smoke because they’re fucking stereotyping me, and don’t you know how to google? Sheesh)
