Odorferous Foibles

Every morning, when I walk my son to Kindergarten, I take care to lock up our house. The house is actually two apartments, one above, one on the ground floor. That means, there are two interior doors that open into the two separate apartments. Both of these doors get locked every time we leave the house unattended. There's a story behind this, but I'll get to it another time.

So, Tuesday morning, I locked up nice and tight and headed off, then returned to the house, unlocked everything, and went about my business, as usual. When it was time to pick up my boy, I locked up again. When we returned, I undid the lower-level door, then headed upstairs and unlocked the door that leads to the main part of the house. The door unlocked just fine, but I couldn't twist the key all the way around its 180-degree circuit that clicks the lock into place and releases the key.

(We use locks that need skeleton keys. It's a system that's still very much in use in Germany. And yes, you can peek right through them into the other room, just like in the old Tom 'n' Jerry cartoons!)

I couldn't get the key out of the door. Inconvenient, but at least we could get into the rest of the house.

My husband told our landlady, Friedl, and the next day she brought a locksmith over to take a look. "Kein problem," he said. "We'll come over tomorrow afternoon and fix it. About 16:00. (4:00 pm).

The next day, predictably, 4:00 pm came and went, and about 5:00 pm, I got a call from one of his workers. "Es tut mir leid. We can't come today. Is tomorrow morning between 7:30-8:30 okay?" That was the only time anyone was available.

7:30 is a little early for me, and my son was sick, and I was starting to feel a little ill, myself. But, I had little choice but to say yes, or have to wait the whole weekend to have our lock fixed. So, I agreed.

I woke up this morning at 6:50, my gut rumbling. That did not bode well. I rushed into the bathroom knowing I had definitely contracted my son's illness. Then, I got dressed, padded up the stairs and opened the windows in the kitchen and living room to air out the residual smokey smell from the previous days' struggles with the wood stove. Then, I tidied up the kitchen.

Then I settled in at the computer (after another stop in the toilet) to wait for the locksmith.

7:30 passed. So did 8:30. At 9:30, I called my husband just to complain that they were late. Not unexpected, but irritating, because I hadn't showered yet, and I'd been postponing another trip to the bathroom because, well, I didn't want to stink up the joint.

At 1:30, my husband called the locksmith, and by 2:30 he was here. I was feeling pretty ripe by then. When I'd gotten dressed and semi-primped early in the morning, I looked half-way decent. But a day of ill health, while tending to my son's needs, and trying to get the laundry done in between, had taken its toll. Having not yet showered, I couldn't have smelled good, and I certainly did not look my best. But I didn't care. It was a bloody locksmith. He was just coming to get the key out of the lock and move on.

But the man who walked through my door made me want to cringe in horror. A young man of medium height, sandy hair, blue eyes, and so damn cute. And there I was, looking like a nightmare of housewifery. I wanted to crawl into a hole a hide until he left.

He was very nice to my son, too, who followed him around asking all kinds of questions.

I remained out of site, too mortified to satisfy my own curiosity by watching. I determined he must be about 15 years younger than me, and I fantasized how he would look once he finished growing into this bone structure. In ten years, he would be one handsome guy. Yowza.

When he was done, I could barely look him in the eye. I must reek something awful. And I already knew how terrible I looked. But he smiled, and was friendly, and didn't behave as if I were repulsive or invisible.

He said goodbye, and turned away, heading down the stairs and out the door. And that's when it hit me. I wasn't so concerned about my B.O., anymore. because I'd caught a whiff of his. As he departed, I was left standing in a wake of armpit stink powerful enough to wake the dead and knock 'em out again.

I cursed as, again, I ran to the bathroom. But then I smiled, knowing that even the best of us can have moments when we fill a room with our presense. No shame in that. It only human.
But I did check to make sure I had plenty of deoderant in stock.

And then I took a very long shower.

QUESTION OF THE DAY. . .

Have you ever laid down your glasses without thinking (to do something like, oh, say, smear on some facial moisturizer), and then couldn't see to find them again? I just did that. My face is about three inches from the computer screen to see what I'm typing. I really didn't want to put my contacts in today, but it "looks" like I might have to...

Have a great wonderful fantastic weekend, everyone!