When I smoked, if I thought I was misspelling something I would have had to look it up. Which would have made me go to get the dictionary. On the way to the bookcase, I would have seen like a sock sticking out from under the bedskirt. Which would have made me decide that I needed to drag out the sweeper and clean under the bed. Opening the door to the backporch would make me look out at the sky, and I'd get intrigued by the stars. The notion that I might have made a post would be evaporated.
Xanax is not much better, however.
