Hey, Good Lookin'... Whatcha got cookin'?

As I was outside this morning with Dorian and Davy Bavy, my teenage neighbor approached.

"Um, hi. Do you have a pot I could, um, borrow?"

"You mean, for cooking?"

"Yeah. The handle fell off of mine."

Somehow, I decided it would be unneighborly to deny the request while simultaneously wondering why there is not another pot in their house, and went inside to fetch the pot I would be least likely to miss should it never return. That would have been the pot that Kathrin gave me after a camping trip some 11 years ago. Unfortunately, that pot was in the sink and full of yogurty water. I may be foolish enough to lend him a pot, but I'm not foolish enough to waste time washing it first. So I grabbed the second oldest and handed it over.

I did manage to find out his name, but I hold no illusions that I will ever get my pot back from Mr. C. Nor am I sure I want it back, because for all I know with the recent activity back there, he's cookin' up some meth with it.

That house is mysterious as it appears from the outside to be about as large as 3 rooms in my house, yet also appears to house 3x as many people. There are definitely 2 teenagers + a girlfriend, 1 four year old and an adult. But there is also a revolving door policy and suspicious trips from the house which result in a return 5 minutes later with a backpack they didn't leave with. I didn't grow up in Baltimore for nothing and I know something's up, and I can guess that my pot is not the only "pot" in that house.