Listening to: Zoobi Doobi from 3 Idiots – seriously, a great sone
Mood: It’s Monday, so…as good as can be expected.
A few weeks back, I went to hang out with Daddy G on our bed while he worked. I am smack dab in the middle of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, so I thought I could make some progress. A few minutes later, Daddy G turned to me and said “Ugh, woman. Go take a shower. You smell.” Because, you know, Daddy G is the epitome of tact when it comes to me.
Horrified, I turned on the geezer and took a shower. I didn’t even realized that I was smelling funky and I had gone for a doctor’s appointment earlier that day. After I was done, I picked up my dirty laundry and noticed the smell was coming from my clothes, not me. I didn’t cook that day, wasn’t sweating much at all, and the clothes were clean that morning. Thinking how strange that was, I just threw them in the wash and went on with my day after giving Daddy G a hard time for his incorrect notion that I stunk.
A few days later, Daddy G came home smelling the same way my clothes had the day before. He was pissed that he had gone through the day smelling of bad cheese and just stink. He knew it was his clothes and was mad. I asked him why he had worn those clothes in the first place if he knew they stank. Apparently, he was in a hurry and didn’t notice it in the morning. A likely story, the same thing had happened to me. I urged him next time to just throw the offending piece of clothing in the wash. I do wash almost every single day anyhow, so it wouldn’t be a big deal to get it washed, ironed and returned. Trust me; he has plenty of work clothing.
I asked him if he knew why our clothes smelled funny because in the past 30 years of my life, I’ve never run into this before. He told me that in India if the clothes weren’t dried completely, they generally got to smelling bad. Cue the lightbulb. A load of dark clothes and pants was put away with a few seams or something damp. I had never run into this in the US. Even if the clothes were damp, the air is generally dry enough, except in the middle of summer in NY (*Shudder*) that they won’t smell and will dry by the end of the day. It may be something in the recycled water that is used for the washing, or just the rain in the air lately. We laughed a little about how people must have been gagging behind our backs and I took the opportunity to poke Daddy G again about that hanging clothes rack that will probably never materialize at our house unless I go buy it myself.
Well, today I opened the armoire and a wall of clothes stink hit me. After valiantly fighting back my gag reflex, I went through the closet piece by piece and ended up washing most of Daddy G’s pants. Hopefully, I’ve found them all. Ugh.