Legal Don't Mean Pretty: How To Get Rid Of Weed Smell
We here at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell, of course, do not promote illegal activities. However, there are now so many jurisdictions in the U.S. in which pot has been decriminalized, either for medical or even recreational purposes, that a concern with getting rid of the rather distinctive odor is just a matter of good decorum.
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?
The irony though is that many of us today who are conscientious about the virtue of aromatic discretion had our first experience with such matters under quite different circumstances. In my youth, and my hometown, pot was certainly illegal, though, through the perhaps somewhat rose colored glasses of recollection, there seems to have been a bit more of an innocence about it than there is today. Still, it wasn't on.
On this one occasion I recall with amusement, my parents were away for several days. I had my girlfriend of the time, Kimmy (ah, Kimberley, the stories I could tell, but let's not digress) and my good, but rather permanently pot addled pal Dave over. We were sitting in the living room. This incidentally was one of those living rooms from the mid to late 20th century in where the furniture was all covered in plastic. I don't know if younger people today can imagine such a thing. Surely no one today does that. If you know of anyone who still has a living room that is treated as a museum and has all the soft furniture covered in plastic, do let me know in the comments section. I'd be fascinated to hear.
Alas, despite my best efforts, I digress. Well, there we are, the three of us, having only just recently imbibed from Dave's perpetual stash, splayed in our teenage languish over the plastic furniture. Then, horror of horrors, the distinctive sound of keys prodding at the front door lock shocked us out of our reveries. Well, all but Dave, in a state of infinite reverie, I expect. Even I though, taken off guard, was rather dazed and confused. Good old Kimmy, though, was her usual rockstar in action. Like a coiled cat she sprung from the couch and dashed the length of the living room, like some kind of crazy wizard, her arms flayed about with mystical speed, throwing open all the living room windows. She then flew like the wind back across the room, where, in a death-defying flourish, in one fell sweep, she scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table, proceeding to stick it inside his jacket.
Now, I'm not sure about this part, but I seem to recall that she then darted to the other end of the room and proceeded to exhale great gusts of blown air across the living room, sweeping the lingering weed odor out the gaping windows. Well, believe it or not, by the time the parents had made their way to the living room the three of us were standing in a row, with slightly improbable grins, something like the service staff of a mansion waiting to greet the new lady of the house upon her arrival.
I have no reason to think for a moment that my parents would have been cool about us smoking pot. It is true, I'm pretty sure, they never had and maybe the smell wasn't as familiar to as many people as it is today. But one way or another nothing of any great important came of it. They seemed mostly annoyed at the prospect of us spreading our shabby carcasses across their plastic covered furniture. So, I don't know if they just didn't recognize the weed odor or if really-truly Kimmy, with her amazing girlfriend superpowers, did do something quasi-magic to instantly dispel the odor.
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?
The irony though is that many of us today who are conscientious about the virtue of aromatic discretion had our first experience with such matters under quite different circumstances. In my youth, and my hometown, pot was certainly illegal, though, through the perhaps somewhat rose colored glasses of recollection, there seems to have been a bit more of an innocence about it than there is today. Still, it wasn't on.
On this one occasion I recall with amusement, my parents were away for several days. I had my girlfriend of the time, Kimmy (ah, Kimberley, the stories I could tell, but let's not digress) and my good, but rather permanently pot addled pal Dave over. We were sitting in the living room. This incidentally was one of those living rooms from the mid to late 20th century in where the furniture was all covered in plastic. I don't know if younger people today can imagine such a thing. Surely no one today does that. If you know of anyone who still has a living room that is treated as a museum and has all the soft furniture covered in plastic, do let me know in the comments section. I'd be fascinated to hear.
Alas, despite my best efforts, I digress. Well, there we are, the three of us, having only just recently imbibed from Dave's perpetual stash, splayed in our teenage languish over the plastic furniture. Then, horror of horrors, the distinctive sound of keys prodding at the front door lock shocked us out of our reveries. Well, all but Dave, in a state of infinite reverie, I expect. Even I though, taken off guard, was rather dazed and confused. Good old Kimmy, though, was her usual rockstar in action. Like a coiled cat she sprung from the couch and dashed the length of the living room, like some kind of crazy wizard, her arms flayed about with mystical speed, throwing open all the living room windows. She then flew like the wind back across the room, where, in a death-defying flourish, in one fell sweep, she scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table, proceeding to stick it inside his jacket.
Now, I'm not sure about this part, but I seem to recall that she then darted to the other end of the room and proceeded to exhale great gusts of blown air across the living room, sweeping the lingering weed odor out the gaping windows. Well, believe it or not, by the time the parents had made their way to the living room the three of us were standing in a row, with slightly improbable grins, something like the service staff of a mansion waiting to greet the new lady of the house upon her arrival.
I have no reason to think for a moment that my parents would have been cool about us smoking pot. It is true, I'm pretty sure, they never had and maybe the smell wasn't as familiar to as many people as it is today. But one way or another nothing of any great important came of it. They seemed mostly annoyed at the prospect of us spreading our shabby carcasses across their plastic covered furniture. So, I don't know if they just didn't recognize the weed odor or if really-truly Kimmy, with her amazing girlfriend superpowers, did do something quasi-magic to instantly dispel the odor.
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.
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