When you work from home, moving can get complicated. When you’re moving to another room in the same apartment, it can get even more complicated even though it would seem much easier. Without anyone else around to tell you when to work, when to move, or when to attempt to Marie-Kondo every inch of your life while simultaneously ordering new shit on Amazon, things can get plain overwhelming. Wandering up and down stairs with boxes all day can turn deadlines and time into wisps of smoke. So sometimes you have to fight smoke with smoke, and light up a joint.

“I love that the plant I’m consuming has been fed by the earth and drenched in natural sunlight.”

I was moving upstairs into an empty room in the same apartment and had been floating between painting walls, packing clothes, and writing articles for a few days. Like Jack, I had become a very dull boy. I needed something to lighten the burden of my neverending to-do list without locking me to the couch. So I rolled up a little bit of Old Pal’s Gelato #45 flower. This hybrid has Sunset Sherbert in its lineage, a strain known for its joyous uplift. It’s also a relative of Girl Scout Cookies, a potent hybrid widely beloved for its broad medicinal aspects. I had a hunch this sweet-smelling flower might have a nice mellow lift that could ease my anxiety yet keep me on my feet. And I was right.

The smell was sweet and citrusy like a sativa but with a hint of earthy pine like an indica. The smoke was smooth and tasted lightly like nature, with hints of flower and wood. Old Pal specializes in outdoor grows, which some find less desirable than a more controlled indoor grow. I personally fall on the more hippie side of cannabis users and love that the plant I’m consuming has been fed by the earth and drenched in natural sunlight. It feels like I’m smoking the power of the sun.

The high itself felt classically hippie stoner as well. It had a light, happy uplift and a creative wave of euphoria that really helped me understand Salvador Dali paintings. It’s the kind of high I imagine beatniks got from jazz cigarettes, inspiring them to write poems accented by bongo drums. While it did calm my anxiety, I also found myself suddenly more interested in writing a poem or painting a masterpiece than moving things. I tried to turn that creative edge into a productive sprint by fixing the messy edges of my freshly painted room.

It took the edge off of the endless stream of tasks in my mind and brought my rushing thoughts back down to a slow gurgle so I could tackle moving chores. This included dusting, vacuuming, dragging boxes around, and figuring out where everything I own will live. It was great for thinking of creative ways to redecorate, helping me consider form and feng shui, and where each piece of furniture may be “happiest.” It was not so great for keeping track of time, though. I thought installing a shelf would take ten minutes, but after finding the right things to go on it and then being distracted by old pictures and the memories they contained, an hour had gone by.

“This high made cleaning my old roommate’s mess into a poetic musing on man’s once meaningful ruins.”

Overall, Gelato #45 provided a creative lift to otherwise very tedious tasks. It was one of those highs that turned cleaning into a poetic musing on man’s intimate history with dirt. Like, we can’t live without it, we survive on plants that grow in it, and then we villainize it once it enters our homes. What’s up with that?

Cleaning out old random nails became a reflection on technology and how these were once the most treasured tools for building a new world. Nails were prized possessions that could change your whole life, build you a home, construct tools, etc. Now they hit peak usefulness when holding up a boring painting we ordered online to look more “cultured.” If you can’t tell already, this high made cleaning my old roommate’s mess into a poetic musing on man’s once meaningful ruins. That, in my mind, is much preferable to an angry meditation on how this girl slept next to a shelf of dust and old nails for four months without ever once cleaning it. Jesus, some people.

The subtle, sleepy comedown landed me softly back down on the earth of boring life. As laundry lists of tasks crept back into my mind (oh yeah, I also have to do laundry), I felt myself wanting to roll up another joint to keep the flow going. This Gelato #45 turned my afternoon of tedious cleaning into a zen practice of cleansing. It’s always nice when an Old Pal helps you move.