The Work Bathroom. My dedicated readers will remember that in an effort to diminish the nasty that is a public restroom the ladies on my floor have installed an air "freshener." You will also remember the pinkness and the aerosol horchata-curry-pumpkin-laundry disaster. If you don't remember...then you are fortunate because the memories are too painful.
With that in mind, I fear it is my duty to inform you that someone has bought a new scent.
I innocently open the door to the ladies' room. I take one step in. I am assaulted by a horrendous spice-smell barrage. The army of scent molecules travel up my nasal and sinus passages into my brain and begin wreaking havoc. I am given a scent headache.
The scent is the sort of smell that is usually relegated to Christmastime. I can best describe it as being like wassail. And I'm not sure why someone thinks a scent that acrid is a good idea. Nor am I sure why they feel the need to turn the dispenserness up to full blast so that the scent has solidified into edible clumps. Nevertheless, they do. And I will be using the bathroom on the first floor until the scent has managed to dissipate.
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| The Scent Molecules preparing their Front Lobal Offensive. |
But what I want to know is, why is it SO hard to just use the wonderful Febreeze spray?
1 comments:
I love your bathroom stories. Also, just so you know I've changed my blog address. it's now: lindseypilgrim.blogspot.com
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