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All I did was try to check out at the local office supply store.  A simple task.  Usually.  As I  the pulled my shopping bag off the counter something fell and hit my foot.  I turned around and saw a something next to my foot.  I reached down and apparently grabbed the wrong end of a baggie. 

And dumped the contents on my sandaled feet.  And they were now covered in green stuff.  It actually looked like belly button lint that might have inhabited my grandma's navel.  I'm guessing here trust me.   Which was immediately cleared up by the clerk yelling "OMG - THAT'S MARIJUANA".  My equally loud response " Really?"





finally an explanation for these hairstyles and grandma's smile

And then she said it must have belonged to the guy that was just here.   I sensed that this did not ease the discomfort of the people in line behind me.  So I turned to them and asked "Do you think that's enough for a cigarette?"  And we all agreed we had no idea if it was or not as it was difficult to determine how much was there and how much was in my shoes.  My personal experience with pot is extremely limited to one encounter in 1972 when my grandma (recently deceased, probably drug related) spent the summer cultivating a most beautiful plant that had "shown" up in her backyard.  When she showed it off to my mom and aunt they promptly called the local sheriff, whom I'm assuming they knew personally, and he came out and had it removed and destroyed.  My grandmother was humiliated but still proud of her gardening skills. Take that Martha Stewart!!! 

 Back to the local office supply store  --- After telling me I should wash my hands the clerk announced she was getting a broom and scurried off.  A little too quickly now that I think about it.  Since I had already checked out I didn't see the point in staying so I went  to my car.   And saw the guy that had left shortly before me.  He took forever in his truck.  Probably thinking " what the hell did I do with that damn baggie?"   And then thinking " why is that woman watching me?"   And then "Why is this woman following me?"   

He didn't seem too panicked, except for maybe when the strange woman followed him to his house.  So I quit.  And then mass texted my family.  It's just easier that way.   "be home from office depot after i get all this marijuana out of my shoes"      They live for my texts.   

If you search "pot" on their website an office phone system comes up.  Also the word "pot" is cleverly inserted into their name.  I think it's a code for something.