Smell You Later...
My grandma used to say that “a skunk can’t smell its own scent”. This comment was usually in response to my grandpa passing gas and then acting all innocent when everyone else within his vicinity was left gagging and fleeing the room. Last night was a pleasantly warm evening and in order to enjoy what remains of the summer-like weather, I had left the bedroom windows open – content to enjoy the warmth of the evening, the gentle breeze caressing the curtains and the sounds of the crickets lulling me to sleep. I had no sooner settled in to bed and just started to drift into a gentle slumber when the smell hits me. At first it was a slight whiff of something that I couldn’t quite place. Although it wasn’t pleasant, it wasn’t quite offensive either, but as I was lying there, the smell gained momentum – coincidentally, as J shifted positions and ruffled the covers. Hmmm, something was amiss. “What the hell did he eat?” was my first thought, but if I’ve learned one thing in these cases, ...