The smell under the kitchen sink lived on so I called the plumber and he came back yesterday. He said it wasn’t so unusual for this to happen, not the smell but the customer noticing some weird odor and thinking it was due to the pipes being worked on. He said it usually turns out to be a dead mouse (oh, goody!) or some cleaning product that leaked under the sink (oops) that the customer thought would go away on its own but it doesn’t so they call him to come back and have a look.
We sniffed all around and just like when your tooth aches right up to the minute the receptionist says the dentist will see you now and then it goes away, the smell was elusive until I stood in a certain spot where it was intense and I called him over. We stood there breathing deeply and he said he smelled something but it wasn’t unpleasant and then I caught it too and realized it was my body lotion and I shook my head and said, “Shalimar.” And he said, “You’re right! I bought some for my wife!” and I don’t know what it is with guys and Shalimar because I personally was done with it by 1980 but Husband is over the moon for the stuff. I once asked him to tell me a fantasy of his and I was waiting to hear something involving a French maid outfit and spike heels, and I won’t say whether or not that eventually happened anyway, but he surprised me by saying he’d like me to wear Shalimar. I said, “Shalimar? That scent reminds me of Joni Mitchell and macramé belts.” He got all dreamy and said, “Yeah, me too.” So I went out and bought some and whenever I wear it he smiles like he’s in a field of hippies waiting for the music to start.
I slathered it on that morning to try and cheer Husband up since we had just returned from visiting his parents in south Florida and it was tough because they’re struggling with the health issues people struggle with when they reach their mid-eighties. South Florida never makes me feel my perkiest because of the humidity and lurking mold and the eleven Walgreens you pass for every mile you travel. We used to visit my grandmother in West Palm Beach until she died at 100 and she just loved living there. I’ve heard the whole south Florida retirement area referred to by people who live somewhere else as ‘God’s waiting room’ and my Dad used to call it ‘life in the last lane’. He also called the crowded planes transporting the New York snowbirds back and forth ‘kosher canoes’. My parents even had a condo down there but my father always called it as he saw it. I wrote at length about my departed family members in Ghosts In My Head but if you’re looking to laugh that would not be the link to click.
So back to the plumber, finally he suggested the nasty smell was a result of some product stored under the sink that had leaked, especially when he noticed the two boxes of baking soda I had dumped over a giant stain. He said forget the baking soda, spread some ground coffee on it right out of the can but don’t waste your Starbucks since the cheap brands work just the same. Now it’s a day later and it seems to have helped so make a note of it on your list of household hints. I’m ashamed to say I never told the plumber about the rotting aerosol can of insect repellent I removed prior to his arrival but this omission is just one of many I have committed in my life and none of them are juicy enough to keep me out of Heaven. I don’t think Hell takes anyone wearing Shalimar anyway. It’s moody but too angelic. Even in the spike heels.
Which suggests a theme for Daughter’s Featured Fotos: DANGER!
drugs kill
busted
cigarette machine and street art, or two monsters, new orleans
car on fire, nyc