Not so Wordless Wednesday.

You know, I had a Wordless Wednesday all ready to post and go to bed.

And then, I went into my garage on the way to the car to take Pookah to daycare.

And I smelled weed.

Weed. Marijuana, Mary Jane………

Now, in my distant distant misguided youth, I may have experimented a time or two with the stickiest of the icky. .

But I’m grown now.  I’ve got a job.  That can ask me to pee in a cup anytime they feel like it.

My husband………

Not so much.

Not to say that he is a weed head.  Or that he occasionally indulges.

Remember this incident when he was laid off?????

Hmmm, yeah.

Idiot..

So I knew that he was a past connoisseur of the herb.

But I thought it was just that: the past.

I thought he learned his lesson the last time.

I mean, other than say when you go to Jamaica on vacation and some guy in the middle of the ocean offers you some of Jamaica’s finest wrapped in a plastic bags………………

But I digress.

My point is, I smelled it.

In my garage.

At 830 in the morning.

I know what weed smells like…..my patients baby daddy’s always always smell like it, and I grew up in DC dammit.

And it was that good shit too.( Don’t ask how I know that)

The point is, I KNOW.

But I’m not supposed to smell that shit in my own damn garage!!! We grown!!!!

WHAT THE HELL????????

And then he had the nerve to try to act like I didn’t know what I was talking about.

Fool, please.

Finally, it comes out: he’s stressed.  I can’t give him any sex( still 1 1/2 week to go on the no sex).  I won’t “relieve” him.

Excuse my french here but

Mutha  F**** please!

I’m so mad I could drive the 40 miles to his job and beat.His.ASS!!!!!!!!

But instead, I’m going to have a nice glass of wine to calm my nerves and go to sleep.

And pray I don’t get a phone call……………..