This is the kind of thing that can only happen to me. All my life, I’ve found myself in situations where I’m accused of something I had absolutely nothing to do with just by being in the worst place at the worst time. I told my husband years ago there may come a day when I stand trial for something I didn’t do because I have the worst luck in the history of the world.
The other day, the Hyphenated Husband is vacuuming the bedroom while I’m cleaning the office. I hear him shut off the vacuum, then he heads into the office saying,
“Uhhh, Gina? Okay, I’m not accusing you of this, but, ummm… what the hell is this?”
Then he walks into the office holding a marijuana pipe, and sporting a look of shock. Now, nobody in this house smokes pot. I haven’t smoked pot since I was a teenager, and neither has he. So where the HELL did this thing come from? We start searching our minds for who may have been in our house with this thing. Was it his mom??? She’s the only person ever in our bedroom. No, it’s not his mother, the retired police officer, for crying out loud.
Then who? How did a piece of drug paraphernalia make it into our bedroom?
Oh wait! The chair! It must have fallen out of the chair that was given to us by his uncle! Ohmygod, his uncle gave us a chair with a pot pipe in it! And now we’re thinking, “Okay, was it our uncle, or our aunt, or one of their two kids that left the pipe in there???”
It doesn’t matter now, because even more pressing is: how the hell do we get rid of this thing? John starts to throw it in the garbage and I’m all freaked out like,
“Wait!!! You can’t throw it in the regular garbage!!! What if the cops go through our garbage and think the pot pipe is ours and ohmyeffinggodwe’dgotojailandthey’dtakeourkidsawayohmygod!!!“
See – pot DOES make you paranoid, even when you haven’t smoked it.
So, I make John wrap it up really tightly and take it all the way out to the garbage on the curb. Today is Tuesday, garbage day in my town, and I’m patiently waiting for the knock on the door by the good ‘ol village police.
Let me just state, for the record, those were not my drugs. You all are my witnesses.
That is too funny - I actually have a similar story, except that we found a pipe in our flower bed one spring, so i stashed it in the pocket of my camera bag until I could figure out what the hay to do with it, and of course I forgot it was there until the day maybe a year later that I found myself in line to go through security at the airport - OMGosh! Luckliy it unscrewed into several pieces so I was able to dismantle it and spread it around in my luggage so no one would be able to tell what it was. I ended up donating it to the Dare officer at my kid's school to use for presentations LOL glad he believed me on how I found it. Seems silly now that I was so worried about putting it in the trash!
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