It's been at least 2 hours since my second joint of the night, 93 Boyz's Hot Chipz. Tasty! As if it were a fine tobacco or a clove. Djarum. Something you'd smoke even if it didn't have a psychoactive effect—because of its gentle, flavorful taste. This one I don't have much of left, maybe enough for one last bowl. It's a thick, luscious smoke that looks good in landscape light in the dark as rain falls. A pleasurable smoke. And two-plus hour effects. Some couch lock. I had my dog—new dog Nora—snuggling on me, her head on my leg. Where was I gonna go?

We were watching curling, US-Japan, women quads. Then Italy and Sweden. They are long matches. Nine ends, ten ends, eights rocks a side every end. Who's got the hammer? Watching curling and relaxing. Then I did get Nora out, into a misty light rain. She did her business, we came back inside.

I am ready to read and sleep. Not a bad night. The Hot Chipz can go whichever way you want. My ears are ringing a little. Buzzed. House sounds. Light timers click, ratchet, trickle. Air handler blowers whir, one for each heat pump. I could fall asleep to curling but I'll be more comfortable in my own bed. Somewhat elated-happy-content, slightly baked. Tired. A good day. 20:42.

The lineage on this is Runtz x Cheetah Piss.

Awesome grind. Dense, fine, efficient. Not blown out; not seedy, shelly, or puffy.

This was my oldest bag/jar. Not only is there nothing wrong with it but I would buy this again, as it was when I opened it, a year beyond package date. A good at home with the dog on a rainy Saturday strain. 20:43...

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