Saturday, May 12, 2018

The Mansion Stinks Like A French He-Ho

Whew! It's a wonder I have the strength to type. My head is clogged from breathing 20-year-old cologne. I'm pretty sure that's the newest stuff Farmer H has in his side of the medicine cabinet. I've told him before that he slathers it on too thick, but Farmer H is not one to take advice. Not even from the voice of reason.

Last night he went to HOS's daughter's high school graduation. I don't like crowds, and am not particularly fond of re-entering a school after my long career. Farmer H took a nice card and monetary gift and my regards. I can't imagine sitting in a hot gym if every guy in there had splashed on the cologne like Farmer H.

I could even smell it downstairs. Not in my lair, but out by the TV. Farmer H hadn't even gone down there! I guess the molecules settled to the lowest level. Plenty of them didn't make it, though. When I ascended those 13 steps to go to bed, the cloying miasma was almost palpable.

My nose was running when I tried to sleep next to the out-gassing Farmer H. His aroma lingered at 7:30 this morning, even though he was long-gone to his Storage Unit Store. Yes, that's right. I do NOT get up at 7:30. Unless it's to turn off the clock radio that started blaring local radio news at that time. Farmer H always finds a way to keep me from getting my full component of 5.5 hours of ZZZZs.

I'm tempted to go peel an onion, to rid my hands of the cologny smell I picked up from the TV remote.


River said...

Go and peel that onion, then put on rubber gloves and wipe down the TV remote and the surface(s) it lays on, possibly everything else Farmer H has touched. Can you dilute the cologne with something?

Hillbilly Mom said...

I might need to buy more onions. I never thought of the dilution solution!