My apartment has been smelling like a baked horse turd for the past three weeks. My downstairs neighbor finally explained it's because he has a license to grow ganja in the basement.
It might be legal (Oregon law provides for growing medical marijuana, and deprioritizes policing other aspects of pot possession and use). But it represents a security issue to me. For starters, anyone with a liquid commodity that commands a high black market value can expect to have persons coming over occassionally looking to borrow stuff permanently. This guy knows it; he's on red alert for suspicious types and nearly called the po-po on my neighbor when she stopped by to feed my cat while I was up in Seattle for the Halo: Reach preview. So I now make sure to tell him when I'm out of town, but I cut short a visit to Texas this past week and got home at 2 a.m., forgetting that this yo-yo might hear footsteps, flip out, run upstairs and shoot my ass.
Secondly, should the cops ever show up - and there have been non-drug related near-misses in the past, I know my home gets searched, too. And finally, I can forget about entertaining polite company. You should have seen it when I opened the door and the FedEx gal, who arrived with my copy of ModNation Racers today, caught a whiff.
Anyway, while I figure out what to do about my agrarian friend, peruse these links and engage your fellow commenters on them, or any other topic you choose.