The Smells of My Day

There's a flubby Siamese cat squishing my stomach and purring to the point of drooling on himself.  It isn't a bad way to end the evening.  Though, he has made my left arm useless with his weight.  If I rub his ears exuberantly, he hyperventilates and stands up coughing and purring.  He's just like me when it comes to grace and style.  I'm a very proud mother.

In the bathroom at work, someone put a Febreze air-freshener on the counter.  This wouldn't be worth mentioning except the scent is "lavender vanilla and comfort."  What does comfort smell like?  And why do I want the restroom at work to smell like comfort?  I like it to be more of a sterile non-smell or something soapy but not sinus-stinging perfume (like lavender for instance).  It just struck me as a really odd thing to sell to people.  Maybe I would be more willing to accept it if the bathroom had a couch in it (like the one Meggles and I discovered at the Hoover Dam).  I am open to the smell of comfort if I am recumbent.

Another olfactory experience today, was Wikus handed me some album he had been discussing--Add N to (X), and I immediately turned over the CD and looked at the back cover.  It was a fairly normal back cover except there were two matte squares on it.  They didn't seem to have anything to do with the overall design, and I immediately sniffed them.  Good fuck those squares stank.  I handed the CD back to Wikus asking if he knew that they were scratch-and-sniff, and smelled like gross trees.  He never noticed.  Which is shocking because it really did stink.  I have no idea what made me immediately know that those spots were to be sniffed.  Is my inner 8-year-old girl showing?  But hey, neat, scratch-and-sniff album cover!

Then there was that email I sent to CSP making fun of John Aielli on KUT.  I noted that John was quoting Yeats, or at least that was what I thought he was doing.  CSP wrote back that it was Joyce, Finnegan's Wake specifically.  I felt insecure and shame for somehow confusing the two.  I beat myself up and didn't respond to CSP's email because I am obviously a serious idiot who should not have friends.  Later on the phone, this embarrassing moment was mentioned, and he admitted he was fucking with me, and he thought I knew he was fucking with me.  How mean.  He's an awful, awful man.  So now I was probably correct about the Yeats, but still feel like a moron for not even realizing that he was just being a jackass.  Thanks, CSP.  The only reason I haven't sworn him off as my friend is because he totally brought me food from his group's holiday lunch.  Sure, he may have felt that I demanded him to bring it, but really what I said was someone better be bringing me food.  I did not say it had to be him.  Geez.