Anyone who knows me even moderately well knows that I HATE to go shopping . . . especially at Christmas time. I hate the crowds, I hate the people, I hate the looking for stuff, I hate the pushing, shoving and shuffling. The whole experience, for me, is generally sucky. In short, I don’t enjoy myself.
A subset of this hatred goes under the heading of both crowds and people. People . . . not all people, mind you, but a scary big number of them . . . stink. Bathing seems to be a concept so alien that it’s literally unfathomable.
And, possibly, just as bad if not worse are the people who immerse themselves in perfumes. Just a little while ago I was following someone out of a store who had on so much cologne that not only did it singed all the hairs out of my nostrils but I could actually taste it and now my throat is burning. Suffice to say that it tasted worse than it smelled and I’m not a happy camper.
So now, nearly 45 minutes later, I can still smell that wretched scent . . . which, by the way, was the same stinky fragrance my ex-husband used to wear.
Arrgggghhhhhh! Here is sit forced to think of the one man on earth I detest more than shopping with a sore throat and the onset of a headache. In a word . . . I’m miserable.
Let that be a lesson to you.
I judge people on how they smell, not how they look.