Wherever You Go—There You Are.
This graphic has nothing to do with anything—it just made me laugh.
Heeeeeyyyyy…Why does my car smell like a fart?
It’s not the dog, our usual suspect in all things foul smelling—she’s with her dad.
So…I’m the only one in here and as far as I know I haven’t passed gas.
Why do the bank and the market and the stroll over to the beauty supply also smell like ass gas?
Maybe that rotten egg, sulfur smell is a natural gas leak. Yeah, that’s it.
We must have a major gas leak in our neighborhood. That could be dangerous.
Note to self: When I get home I need to call the Gas Company to come out and check on that.
That could be a lifesaver, especially with all of the cooking and candle lighting going on the next few days. Nobody wants their face blown off lighting a candle.
Then I promptly forgot.
I had other things on my mind.
It was the day before Thanksgiving. I was busy!
Someone else has probably called by now. It is up to another Good Samaritan to save our lives.
God, I hope it’s not my face that gets blown off.
I was reminded that I forgot, (See how that works?) by the smell of dog fart inside my own home!
The same one I had spent all day Hazeling. The one that was minus one poopy dog.
Sourly odiferous. That’s the smell.
I went inside and washed out my nostrils. I did! It was like that dog-farty-sour smell was somehow stuck inside my nose, tainting my entire day.
I lit incense. Nothing helped.
It just covered it up for awhile. A Nag Champa Poop blend.
Turns out I had dog poop on the bottom of my shoe and it had accompanied me all day everywhere I went.
Has that ever happened to you?
See where I’m going with this?
I’m not even going to say it because you guys are so smart you already know that I’m going to say that the poop on my shoe was exactly like a metaphor for a bad mood. Or sadness.
That you take that shit wherever you go.
Damn, you guys are good!
Carry on,
xox
