moths beware...

I keep smelling moth balls. I have done all the requisite cleaning a fastidious person would be wont to do, but yet, Grandma Moses Tinkerbell looms above me sprinkling her Mothball Faerie Dust upon my brow.

I sniffed my clothes--check. I sniffed the ginger perfume on my wrist--check. I whisked my head back and forth to get a whiff of my organic hair products--check. Shoes--not a bed of roses, but about as good as shoes ever smell--check. So, I have surmised that the blend of lotions, perfume and hair products I am wearing today meld into a hippy-smelling version of moth balls. Patchouli meets mamaw. Granny Clampett goes organic.

Lend me your wool sweaters for a day and they will be protected forever.

Happy Friday the 13th. To hell with the number 13, it's Friday!