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.
Becky
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