canndo
Well-Known Member
Some of us have a sort of phobia - we HATE to be without at least a small supply of this and that, a bit of that other, a droplet or two those last two pills at the bottom of the vial.
I am a cigar collector (as some know), and I have amassed many thousands of cigars. In so doing I know that I get boxes of cigars that are irreplaceable, they are old and no longer manufactured. At first I dive into the box usually until the first of the two rows of little soldiers is gone or about gone and then I begin to worry, they are either far too expensive to replace the box, I intended from the start to lay them down for a few years of spanish cedar nap where they will grow more fragrant and blend like a fine wine but eventually when the box is down to the last 5 or so, they go into my ultimate stash, to be brought out, with the intent to draw one from the collection - and then I think better of it and find something more mundane.
So too is my hash collection, some now tiny half gram nuggets of something I might have made or been given as long as 10 years ago, each piece was once a grand hunk of goodness, now pared down to a sad bit surrounded by memories.
My x collection barely fills the bottom of several vials, 4 white flat tabs I have had for 12 years, where once the vial was filled with them, now the vial is packed with recollections and those last 4 await some extra special event. Another vial contains the last bit of molly I managed to get in trade for something the trader found to be even more precious. That vial comes out once a month or so and then.... reluctantly, wisely, it is placed back in the freezer.
My collection of smoke is something that my friends covet - having at least a single bud of every sort of pot that has passed through my hands in the last 20 years. Only a bud remains in some, in others just two or three of the biggest I found in the bag.
while wooing my first wife who had a large penchant for pot, I gathered together an earlier stash that was 15 years old. Each bag lovingly labled by date and suspected strain, jperhaps two dozen baggies or more. I gave her the entire thing in a moment of passion. I recall walking in while she was rolling a joint only to find that she had poured all of those individual bits of my drug history into one giant pound bag, mixed and beyond differentiation. I was angry and dismayed that she would do such a thing - "pot is pot honey, I don't see why you are so upset!" a week or so later I addressed her wine collection, opened half a dozen different bottles of her finest and poured them into a clean bucket. "why are you so upset Linda? Wine is wine after all"
In another story I would love to relate, I was forced to pour another stash of 25 peyote buttons, Biphetamine, valium, mexican qualuudes - the last of a long cherished batch that I had taken out, admired and then lovingly replaced - all down the toilet.
Am I alone in this strange hording - as so many hold that "drugs get stale and should be eaten as quickly as possible". Of course my opiate stash is the hardest to maintain being down to a sliver of fentanyl, two opana, one morphine, a few dilaudid and a pitiful handful of norco. Mushrooms? me? I hold still a small bag of mexican sclerotia and a carefully wrapped ounce of perfectly preserved caps, a few of each of half a dozen strains.
Tinctures, a vial of each of the best and a little oil from here and there that is probably ruined through time itself.
Anyone else keep a real, collection of items kept in store for that perfect occasion?
I am a cigar collector (as some know), and I have amassed many thousands of cigars. In so doing I know that I get boxes of cigars that are irreplaceable, they are old and no longer manufactured. At first I dive into the box usually until the first of the two rows of little soldiers is gone or about gone and then I begin to worry, they are either far too expensive to replace the box, I intended from the start to lay them down for a few years of spanish cedar nap where they will grow more fragrant and blend like a fine wine but eventually when the box is down to the last 5 or so, they go into my ultimate stash, to be brought out, with the intent to draw one from the collection - and then I think better of it and find something more mundane.
So too is my hash collection, some now tiny half gram nuggets of something I might have made or been given as long as 10 years ago, each piece was once a grand hunk of goodness, now pared down to a sad bit surrounded by memories.
My x collection barely fills the bottom of several vials, 4 white flat tabs I have had for 12 years, where once the vial was filled with them, now the vial is packed with recollections and those last 4 await some extra special event. Another vial contains the last bit of molly I managed to get in trade for something the trader found to be even more precious. That vial comes out once a month or so and then.... reluctantly, wisely, it is placed back in the freezer.
My collection of smoke is something that my friends covet - having at least a single bud of every sort of pot that has passed through my hands in the last 20 years. Only a bud remains in some, in others just two or three of the biggest I found in the bag.
while wooing my first wife who had a large penchant for pot, I gathered together an earlier stash that was 15 years old. Each bag lovingly labled by date and suspected strain, jperhaps two dozen baggies or more. I gave her the entire thing in a moment of passion. I recall walking in while she was rolling a joint only to find that she had poured all of those individual bits of my drug history into one giant pound bag, mixed and beyond differentiation. I was angry and dismayed that she would do such a thing - "pot is pot honey, I don't see why you are so upset!" a week or so later I addressed her wine collection, opened half a dozen different bottles of her finest and poured them into a clean bucket. "why are you so upset Linda? Wine is wine after all"
In another story I would love to relate, I was forced to pour another stash of 25 peyote buttons, Biphetamine, valium, mexican qualuudes - the last of a long cherished batch that I had taken out, admired and then lovingly replaced - all down the toilet.
Am I alone in this strange hording - as so many hold that "drugs get stale and should be eaten as quickly as possible". Of course my opiate stash is the hardest to maintain being down to a sliver of fentanyl, two opana, one morphine, a few dilaudid and a pitiful handful of norco. Mushrooms? me? I hold still a small bag of mexican sclerotia and a carefully wrapped ounce of perfectly preserved caps, a few of each of half a dozen strains.
Tinctures, a vial of each of the best and a little oil from here and there that is probably ruined through time itself.
Anyone else keep a real, collection of items kept in store for that perfect occasion?
