Secondhand pot is ruining my life

I think I am becoming dumber for living in my current apartment. I have lived there a little over a year and my memory is going and I just feel stupider. Why you ask? Well, it could just be my job is making me dumber. I mean the fact that I have to play Sodoku online and before I go to bed just so I know my brain is still functioning does not say a lot for what I do for a living. No no. It is because I live next door to some serious potheads.

Now let me start by saying I have never smoked pot in my life. WHAT??? you say...Yes, it is weird I know. After blacking out for the first time from drinking a couple of weeks ago, I got the same reaction I usually get to that statement. WHAT?? YOU'VE NEVER BLACKED OUT BEFORE?? Apparently I am a square. Or just not an alcoholic pothead.Sorry, tangent. I live next door to an older couple - maybe around 50 - who smoke pot ALL day long. That is not an exaggeration. Not to mention they have a son who used to (or still does) deal drugs. How do I know this? Well, I may or may not have put a glass up to the wall to listen to them fighting. He deals drugs, they smoke them. What's the problem? At first I thought maybe I was overreacting to the smell because my virgin nose was so sensitive, but then I had several people comment on it. Friends waiting for the cable man, my family, pregnant friends worrying for their unborn children... It is a lifestyle now. Everyone at work knows I am a secondhand pothead, so we have an understanding.

To be fair, this neighbor is a step up from my tap dancing neighbor in my last apartment. Instead of smoking pot all day he would literally walk around his apartment all day long. Where are you going? I get home, take my shoes off, get on the couch, and that's it. The only steps I take are to the kitchen or bathroom and I am so lazy I'll combine that into the same trip. This guy walked around day and night - in his shoes! What are we on a sitcom? Who wears their shoes in their apartment? My friend and I came up with a few theories on what he was doing up there. Was he a serial killer just walking around looking at this collection of hair or heads or bones or whatever they have in their freezers? We were convinced he had a bomb strapped to him like in Speed and if he stopped walking the bomb would go off. I think I'll go with that theory. So moving into my new place and being free of the walker was worth a little pot. I'll just ignore the fact that my neighbors on the other side are yelling at and beating their children day and night. I see them in the hallway and want to tell them to come inside and live with me. Then I remember I don't want to have to take care of kids. I'm a secondhand pot addict for God's sake. Where am I?