Talking about evidence and court is creeping me out. You watch CSI Miami and everything is evidence. You drink from a Tim Horton’s coffee cup and some guy in a white suit and latex gloves is picking the thing out of a garbage can with tweezers.
Does it make you nervous too?
I’m wondering if I should lick the Christmas Card envelopes this year in case there is a crime scene when they get to their destination. Perhaps they can track me back to my place and I’ll be a suspect, albeit a thousand miles away.