I just came out of the ‘kitchen’ area and sat down to write this little rant.  I wasn’t really in the mood to rant today.  Wasn’t feeling like it was important.  After all who cares, but stopping in to the vending machine isle and the line of worn out microwaves (our kitchen) to get a Pepsi and something to nibble on (like the good rat that I am) I had to come back here and make a statement about what I was subject to while there.  No it was nothing about the vending machines.  They had their supply of stale cheese puffs and bad coffees.  It wasn’t some idiot burning popcorn in the microwave.  Nor was it someone actually wanting to talk with me first thing this morning.

Instead upon stopping in front of the soft drink machine I was assaulted by a smell: cheap perfume.  This smell was so intense that I was slightly sickened.  It was that stale smell of old women.  The smell of a perfume that had sat dormant under a sink somewhere for far to long and had been allowed to ferment, reverting to a cheap wine, or worse, the slug at the bottom of a septic tank.

I looked around the kitchen and the dining area.  The lights were still off in the dining area.  Not a soul around.  Had I just missed this lumbering giant of a woman who only moments ago had sloshed this garbage about her body?   I stole a quick glance down the hallway, looked around the corner to the door, and even looked outside…no one.  Not a soul.  Who ever had fallen into their perfume bottle was no where to be found.

Here’s the problem.  Scents are made for personal proximity.   We put smells onto our bodies to highlight our natural scent (or cover the smell of smoke as it may be in my case).  This smell is added to our being so that when people approach us, they are not offended by our musky undertones.  Even less obvious is the fact that it’s suppose to be a sublime alteration in your physical being, something that an intimate partner would cherish and find nostalgic.  Lovers wear perfumes and colognes to entice each other.  They wear tiny bits in strategic areas in order to endue lust at very, very close range.  Who hasn’t leaned into that special someone, nuzzling in to kiss the earlobe, only to be even more aroused by a well placed drop of scent hidden there? 

Smelling bad can at least be blamed on nature.  We all stink at times.  But having a room change color because the fragrance you poured over your head that morning can only be blamed on you. 

Stink it up!