No one at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell would ever advocate illegal activities. Yet, with so many jurisdictions in the United States with decriminalized weed laws, whether due to medical or recreational concerns, there remains relevant the question of how best to remove that distinctive pot odor. It's just good manners.
Let's face it; you may want to invite for dinner your boss or your next door neighbor, or even your in-laws. If you smoke pot, though, you don't want to create any awkward moments to spoil your dinner party. The truth is lots of people remain uncomfortable with marijuana smoking, regardless of its legality. At that point you can choose to undertake a moral crusade to win them to your side or just skip the whole futile and somewhat vainglorious undertaking and just make an effort to keep your home smelling pleasant for all visitors.
My rule of thumb is, if it happens in personal space it can quite nicely just stay in personal space. That is kind of the whole point of personal space, isn't it?
Ironically though upon reflection, it turns out that even those who now show acute conscientiousness over this kind of aromatic discretion had our own first experience of such concerns in somewhat less pristine circumstances. A story from my own youth might illustrate the point. Certainly in the time and place I grew up there was no mistaking pot as legal. Funnily, however, though it was if anything even more culturally taboo than today, I can't help remembering it as being somehow a more innocent time, when it came to pot.
So, there was this one time, my parents were away for several days, and I had the run of the place to myself. Over for a visit were my current girlfriend, Kimmy (ah, Kimberley, the stories, the stories, but let's not digress) and also my good buddy, the ever pot-addled Dave. Our little crew was hanging out in the living room. This living room, by the way, was treated by the folks as a kind of shrine. During that era, of the mid to late 20th century, it was peculiarly common to see living rooms in which the soft furniture was all covered in form-fitting plastic. I can't imagine that anyone still does this. If you know someone who does, though, let me know. I'd be curious to hear about it.
Anyway, so the three of us had recently imbibed and were lounging on the plastic - actually we may have lifted it off. I don't recall. Suddenly we heard keys prodding at the lock of the front door. I was rather dazed and confused, and Dave was inching toward comatose, but old Kimmy was ever the superstar. Like a coiled cat she leapt to her feet and flew across the room where, with arm speed that blurred before our eyes, she tossed open all the windows, before flying back across the room and in a mind numbing flourish scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table and stuffed it all inside the jacket he was wearing.
I confess, I'm not entirely sure how certain I can be about this next part, but as I recall it, she then flashed across the room, opposite the open windows, and rapidly exhaled great gusts of air right through the entire living room. Miraculously, it would seem, this had the effect of completely sweeping any lingering smell of pot out the a-gape windows. Amazingly, by the time my parents arrived in the living room, there we were, the three of us, standing in single file, our faces sporting vaguely absurd smiles: perhaps reminiscent of the service staff employed at a mansion attentively awaiting arrival of a new lady of the house.
Look, my parents weren't exactly cool in any sense. I don't think they ever smoked pot and I'm certain they would have been more than a little disapproving of me doing so. One way or another, though, all this passed without great incident. If anything, they were distressed at the prospect of such a gaggle of scruffy teenagers lounging over their plastic covered furniture. So, looking back on the incident, I can't really say if it was just that they didn't recognize the smell of weed or if indeed superstar girlfriend Kimmy did exert a bit of her magic to miraculously rid the living room of the odor of culpability.
The bottom line for you, though, is that unless you have the extraordinary good fortune of knowing Kimmy (and if you do, please let me know, I'd like to get in touch with her again), you'll be needing more conventional weed smell abatement strategies. Fortunately for you, we're here on the job at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell, providing the gold standard of aromatic discretion.
Let's face it; you may want to invite for dinner your boss or your next door neighbor, or even your in-laws. If you smoke pot, though, you don't want to create any awkward moments to spoil your dinner party. The truth is lots of people remain uncomfortable with marijuana smoking, regardless of its legality. At that point you can choose to undertake a moral crusade to win them to your side or just skip the whole futile and somewhat vainglorious undertaking and just make an effort to keep your home smelling pleasant for all visitors.
My rule of thumb is, if it happens in personal space it can quite nicely just stay in personal space. That is kind of the whole point of personal space, isn't it?
Ironically though upon reflection, it turns out that even those who now show acute conscientiousness over this kind of aromatic discretion had our own first experience of such concerns in somewhat less pristine circumstances. A story from my own youth might illustrate the point. Certainly in the time and place I grew up there was no mistaking pot as legal. Funnily, however, though it was if anything even more culturally taboo than today, I can't help remembering it as being somehow a more innocent time, when it came to pot.
So, there was this one time, my parents were away for several days, and I had the run of the place to myself. Over for a visit were my current girlfriend, Kimmy (ah, Kimberley, the stories, the stories, but let's not digress) and also my good buddy, the ever pot-addled Dave. Our little crew was hanging out in the living room. This living room, by the way, was treated by the folks as a kind of shrine. During that era, of the mid to late 20th century, it was peculiarly common to see living rooms in which the soft furniture was all covered in form-fitting plastic. I can't imagine that anyone still does this. If you know someone who does, though, let me know. I'd be curious to hear about it.
Anyway, so the three of us had recently imbibed and were lounging on the plastic - actually we may have lifted it off. I don't recall. Suddenly we heard keys prodding at the lock of the front door. I was rather dazed and confused, and Dave was inching toward comatose, but old Kimmy was ever the superstar. Like a coiled cat she leapt to her feet and flew across the room where, with arm speed that blurred before our eyes, she tossed open all the windows, before flying back across the room and in a mind numbing flourish scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table and stuffed it all inside the jacket he was wearing.
I confess, I'm not entirely sure how certain I can be about this next part, but as I recall it, she then flashed across the room, opposite the open windows, and rapidly exhaled great gusts of air right through the entire living room. Miraculously, it would seem, this had the effect of completely sweeping any lingering smell of pot out the a-gape windows. Amazingly, by the time my parents arrived in the living room, there we were, the three of us, standing in single file, our faces sporting vaguely absurd smiles: perhaps reminiscent of the service staff employed at a mansion attentively awaiting arrival of a new lady of the house.
Look, my parents weren't exactly cool in any sense. I don't think they ever smoked pot and I'm certain they would have been more than a little disapproving of me doing so. One way or another, though, all this passed without great incident. If anything, they were distressed at the prospect of such a gaggle of scruffy teenagers lounging over their plastic covered furniture. So, looking back on the incident, I can't really say if it was just that they didn't recognize the smell of weed or if indeed superstar girlfriend Kimmy did exert a bit of her magic to miraculously rid the living room of the odor of culpability.
The bottom line for you, though, is that unless you have the extraordinary good fortune of knowing Kimmy (and if you do, please let me know, I'd like to get in touch with her again), you'll be needing more conventional weed smell abatement strategies. Fortunately for you, we're here on the job at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell, providing the gold standard of aromatic discretion.
About the Author:
Mickey Jhonny also writes for the Walking Dead celebration cite, Pretty Much Dead Already. His hit post on The Walking Dead Fanfiction is a must read.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire