Lifestyles of the group home (transitional) transients - freon-huffing, post-cloudz 🤯

 Man, oh, man, these housemates of mine really pop off, for the start of a day - a workweek Monday, for that matter.

Having spent some years in transitional living homes, after doing some time, immemorable, of some form, around the time I was evicted from my Section 8 apartment, for excessive crumbs and knickknacks crumbs and knickknacks awrr rawr rawr, I’d (fearfully so) had become acquainted with some transient group home types, much more down to home and in-my-face, err, (some other) mental health detriment, some other personality disorder. 

That being said, I do have some reasonably good and well-read psychology chops, so I commonly moonlight as a public health operative, out in the field, or, at home, much the same - that is, to say, that these demographics are much like common folk who are out and about, and I hear that many of them are equitably to be found in sober living home settings; it’s a certain branch off-shoot of that lifestyle and placement, by public and mental health, as well as social service and local government organizations. 

This is transitional living.

I’ll keep it short, and to the point - these folks share their knowledge base and resources, however well-resourced, somewhat fairly freely, amongst each other, and, in my case, they find me the “gay” one - the one to pick on, for being well-groomed, well-dressed, clean cut, etc., so they direct a significant amount of inappropriate attention towards me, once I leave home, to head out, and feed the pigeons, for my work day, or, perhaps, they do it somewhere off in the periphery. 

But anyways, this is the memo. The drama, of an ongoing nature, I’ve come to (re-)discover, through “hearing” stuff - something along these lines, I’ll say, tantamount to a strong air-pressure leakage, from a holding tank, perhaps of a commercial, rather than personal, -sized tank, such as for Freon tank refilling, or installation. 

Essentially, it seems to allow for the users to become exotically more so euphorically intoxicated, with blissful renditions upon life, at a strange hour, in life, (comparatively), such as perhaps just prior to 8 a.m., through 9:30 a.m., or so. I did “similarly,” yet not “huffing” stuff(-ly) so, types of things, back in college, when I had a girlfriend, but I was, comparatively, embarrassed, when I realized that my neighbor could hear me, from across the way.