Mystery by Mail (life is not a television show. I hope.)

On Saturday, I opened the mailbox and there was an envelope with my name and former address on it (forwarded from the NM address to my current one), with something bulky (felt like jewelry beads) inside. I didn't recognize the return address and name but of course curiosity won over caution and I opened it. A blank sheet of paper had been folded a few times and stapled, then paper clipped shut. As I start to open it, I realize that it isn't jewelry beads, but something more earthy. And of course, as visions of Anthrax dance through my head, I realize I shouldn't be touching this mystery package. Enclosed in the paper is something that looks a hell of a lot like pot seeds. No note, nothing. Monk took a whiff, but couldn’t tell for sure, and I waited across the room, watching for signs of internal organs swiftly decomposing (from inhaling some mysterious seeds-of-death vapor). Here's what drove home the weirdness:

1. I do not know anyone in Seattle, WA (the return address)
2. I do not know anyone with a name even remotely similar to the sender
3. I moved from the NM address, out of state, last July and did not have any friends that would have asked for or known our mailing address there (the only good things to come out of our Albuquerque phase: another dog and a motorcycle license).
3. I have not been 420 friendly for many years now, and even when I was, I was a dabbler, not a gung ho grow-your-own-er. Therefore,
4. No one I know, that knows me, would send such a care package.

I wonder if I should be a-skeered? Monk threw the paper and its contents out even though I was ready to take it the police station and have them go all CSI on it, and I kept the envelope for some reason. Now, unless this is some X-Files thing where some crazy killer-insect-alien is going to sprout from these pods and devour my neighborhood (and later, of course, the world), I’m left wondering what the hell is the point. If it really was some prank designed to instill fear, and the sender is reading this, make a note: What really strikes cold fear through my skittish heart is cash, lots and lots of cash arriving anonymously by mail.

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