I was staying with Greg and Edrie at 412 C West Wilson, the place Gracie and Bill rented for years in Glendale. I was an older adult, somehow down on my luck and needing a place to stay temporarily. I was home during the day while they were out to work.
I must have smoked some pot in the house. It was getting late, and they were due home any minute, so I was frantically trying to air the place out before they got home. I opened up a bunch of windows and hid the stinky pipe and weed in a ziploc bag in a drawer under the wooden bedframe.
I went about the house spritzing Lysol (not too much or it's obvious), and I set about cleaning up some of the mess I'd made throughout the day. I contemplated trying to cook some dinner but realized that it was already 6 o'clock, and I should have done this an hour ago.
As their guest, I really should be making myself more amenable. I settled for just trying to be less stinky.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.