The title of this letter should be "Pot-Pour-Ri." The literal translation is rotten pot. I couldn't agree more. No, I'm not writing about the fragrant concoction of flowers, herbs and spices so popular as gifts at Christmas. I'm speaking of the skunk scent of the other pot - marijuana. There must be a reason for the putrid odor.

I should have titled this piece "Pot Poor Me." A pot-growing renter just stiffed me. He left my rental in shambles. Even painting the entire inside and cleaning the house and carpet with deodorant did not entirely remove this distinctive moldy smell. The security deposit did not cover one-third of the cleanup cost. He left the day before the scheduled walk-through and final rent payment. His note saying the check was in the mail was the final insult.

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