Picture this: 1998
I’m living with my cousin (a nun), following
my leaving my WASband. This was a temporary (one year) arrangement as
“transitional housing” until my divorce was finalized.
I’ve alluded in other threads, the whole notion of “Cleanliness is next
to Godliness” did not apply to my cousin, whether it be her house, her
cats, her car, or more specifically for this thread, HER BODY.
a few weeks, she and I had gotten ourselves into a system, a habit.
I’d come home from work and immediately take a nap (from 6 p.m. til
about 10 p.m., when she’d go to bed). I set my alarm and would get up
when she was already ensconced in bed.
I got up, splashed some
water on my face, dabbed off the excess with her cute little fingertip
towel she kept by the sink, and then scampered off and wandered to the
den, and popped online.
Suddenly, I became aware of an aroma of
the most-foul nature. Sour, tangy, cheesy. Definitely
fermented...NEIGH... definitely EVIL...
I sniffed my pits, and
whafted air up from my crotchal region, taking a stink assessment, both
of which came up with negative results.
I got up, and as much as
it pains me to recall this, I sniffed the upholstery of the chair,
thinking perhaps I was sitting in her filth. No dice.
THE. SMELL. WENT. WHEREVER. I. LOOKED. IT. WAS. ALWAYS. THERE….
I retraced my steps from whence I woke up. I found myself back in the
bathroom. At this point, I am very afraid and reluctant to pick up the
fingertip towel (which for all intents and purposes APPEARED CLEAN).
hesitatingly… dry-heaving-ly, I put the towel up within sniffing
range… and FUCK-ME-RUNNING-WITH-A-RED-HOT-POGO-STICK-THERE-IT-WAS!~
can only deduce that my cousin used this cloth to either dry her
vajoosh or perhaps take a swipe at the yeasty underfolds of her belly,
which were forever in a state of candidiasis.
I have nothing else.
Nor do I think this story requires much else, other than to share that