be happy for this moment.

I think pot should be legal. I don’t smoke it,
but I like the smell of it.
Andy Warhol

Yesterday here in St. Louis was glorious. Highs in the mid-70s during the day and sunny and cooler at night. We had all of the windows open in the house to let the cool breezes in (and save a little on electricity with the air off!).

I was doing my nails in the bathroom while Bella was sitting on top of the toilet. Watching of course. I watched her little nose twitch and sniff-sniff-sniff.

Hmmmm.

Sniff-sniff-sniff.

What does she smell? I did a little sniff too. Something. I stood up. Sniff.

Sniff-sniff-sniff.

Walked into the den. Back to the bathroom. What is that... smell? Sniff.

I walked into the living room where Nick was sitting working on his laptop. Bella hoped up on to the couch next to him.

Sniff-sniff-sniff.

I asked, "Do you smell that?"

"Yup," he repiled.

"Is that...," I responded.

"Pot," he answered bluntly.

My boring-nail-painting, monogrammed-robe-wearing mouth dropped. Nick just laughed. Bella just went... sniff-sniff-sniff.

We debated on which neighbor was enjoying a Monday night, well um, high. Votes from me went to the kitty-corner behind us neighbor that blares Led Zeppelin from his outdoor sound system on the weekends. Nick voted for the new neighbor next door who had all his tiki torches blazing on the back deck.

So the fabulous weather allowed fresh air into our home along with all of what our neighbors were up to as well. Either way, my house smelled like pot for a good hour.

Sniff-sniff-sniff.