There's not much joy in doing what I do for a living, but there was a sliver of light in a small southern courthouse - A landlord wants possession because there is a continuing lease on her property. The tenant is trying to break the lease because the landlord turned off her electricity. Although she hasn't paid any rent for 3 months, she is suing for the cost of a purchased microwave oven, 65 microwave dinners, and the extension cord she used to steal electricity from her neighbor's outside outlet. The landlord claims the tenant is a drug dealer and an addict. In about 10-20 seconds, voices are raised, there's a lot of hand waving and head turning like a Saturday morning confrontation between Ric Flair and Black Jack Mulligan. The 2 deputies have now positioned themselves behind the imminent catfight about to begin. "Judge, I am constantly seeing people go in and out and the whole place smells like marijuana. Not that I know what marijuana smells like." Tenant - "Oh, you know what it smells like. You smoke it all the time." When from the second row, a young man stands up and proclaims, "If it will be any help, I know what marijuana smells like." Boom. As I am reminiscing about my morning at the Sheets station down the street, I help an octogenarian behind a walker to his car carrying a 12 pack of Miller Lite and a carton of Marlboros. Its 9:35am. Happy Friday.
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