Have I ever mentioned how much I loathe the smell of pot?

And thanks to some vagary of building luck, my desk sits right in a corner where the smell from downstairs can just slide right in.

Every time I report it, to the manager (who is quite sympathetic) or the cops, the cops show up too late to catch the guy actually toking, and they can't enter the apartment and search it without probable cause, namely the stink. And quite right, too; I don't want jackbooted thugs on my police force, thank you very much. But it does make things unpleasant for me whenever the guy gets it into his head to have a few hits.

They have a baby, too. This offends me--that they'd smoke anything, but especially pot, with a baby in the house.

Yuck.