Friday, June 15, 2007

I stink.

This morning, as I contemplated my personal hygiene, I was alarmed to recall a vast series of running jokes--with different groups of people-- which imply that my habits are less than exemplary. There was the one about the "guy from China" calling to say he was sick of smelling me. And the one about me showering every third Saturday, whether I need to or not. And the one about not washing my hair cause I'm saving up to grease pans. It's easy to laugh about being foul and disgusting when you're (pretty) sure it's not true.

But we hit a new low this morning. I'm not naming names, but someone became a little too friendly with a neighborhood skunk, and now we're all so saturated in stink that we can't tell how stinky we are. It's sweet of you to pretend you haven't noticed.

Looking on the bright side, I'm claiming 20 million SRC points for the four cans of tomato sauce we won't have to pack up and move next week. And the guy from China hasn't called yet either, so I guess that's a good sign too.


Ben said...

I'm not quite in China, but... I thought I smelled something.

Mrs. Donut said...

I'm sorry about Malcom. Is he not stinky anymore? I guess he just thought that skunk was a new friend. Poor guy.

Princess Gerty said...

I am laughing because I really thought that was only the kind of thing that happens in movies or TV shows. Poor dog! I am sure glad the stink is gone now.