I live in a tidy, cozy little home, roughly 1200 square feet. It was built in 1904: the ceilings are high, the woodwork is elaborate, the closets non-existent. You can’t get away with much in a place this size.
Which is why I can tell you that the bathroom air freshener is on my nerves.
But I’m ahead of myself.
Are you familiar with that shelf at the grocery store, the one with the dented cans and the items that never really sold: the chocolate-covered brussel sprouts, the Exploding Marshmallow Loops (now with more fiber!)?
I’m no stranger to that shelf. It’s how I ended up with marked-down deodorant (Coconut Kiss).
And now you know. If something has been marked down and I’m in the market for said thing, I just may buy it.
Frankly, I’m surprised that the coconut-flavored deodorant didn’t catch on. My armpits smell like vacation over here, one in which a pina colada figures prominently.
One of the this-crap-ain’t-sellin’ items that I picked up recently at the Shelf of Failed Products was a citrus-smelling air spray.
Normally, I am not a proponent of air sprays. My original thought on air fresheners echoes my mother’s: If it smells so bad, why don’t you clean it?
But sometimes it’s not a matter of “clean”.
This is the part where I refer you to the line “You can’t get away with much in a place this size”.
Follow me, won’t you, to the bathroom.
It is possible, in our bathroom, for you to easily reach the toilet, the sink, and the bathtub all at the same time. This has yet to come in handy, but the day it does will be both a blessing and, probably, somewhat disgusting.
I’ve had the flu for a full week now. When I’m not sleeping, I’m here, on the couch, just outside the Tiny Bathroom.
And that citrus air spray? Either we are now keeping produce in the bathroom or someone has just pooped a fruit salad.
I am not getting up to find out.
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