Mrs. Meyer’s

A word of caution with regard to Mrs. Meyer’s Clean Day Geranium scent laundry products—they are not recommended. I am crazy, and I do mean go-out-of-your-way-to-the-grocery-store-30-minutes-away-crazy, about the scent in all other forms but they really blew it with the detergent and dryer sheets. We shall start with the detergent: it smells like vomit. Or I guess not EXACTLY like vomit, but there’s some fragrance component in it that strictly belongs in a swiftly flushed toilet or on a hobo’s beard. Ech. I don’t gag when I pour it into the machine, but it’s certainly not pleasant and I will not be purchasing the detergent again. Surprisingly, after the wash is done, the wet clothes don’t smell like bile, but rather a very light version of the fragrance one expects. So, okay, that’s kind of awesome, but then you put them in the dryer with the dryer sheets and they come out all warm and smelling of…nothing. Maybe they smell like thread or wet socks in a not-bad way, but definitely not Geranium scent. Which, I must add, smells nothing like geraniums. What???? Exactly.

A word of caution with regard to Mrs. Meyer’s Clean Day Basil scent hand soap. I dare you to stop smelling your hands after you wash up. Go ahead and try it, it is unpossible. Then you’ll be putting away dishes, and as your hand, clutching a tumbler, passes in front of your face, you’ll think, “What is that amazing smell?” Then you’ll smell your hands again and be glad you live alone, because wow, that’s some crazysauce behavior. You won’t feel so bad though when your male friend with huge hands comes over and is similarly entranced with his own sweetly-scented monster phalanges.

My Car Is Raped AGAIN

I’ve lived in Baltimore for about 3.5 years now, and have been waiting patiently for my car to get broken into. I didn’t WANT it to get broken into, it just seemed like an inevitability. There was a very clear picture of it in my mind: I’m dressed for work, probably running a few minutes late, when I approach my car. Everything looks normal until I realize that my passenger’s side window has been pulverized and scattered all over the car interior. SMASH. This is but exactly what happened. The realization as to what had happened took longer than I imagined; it seems my brain is extra slow when confronted with the vision of a bookbag I clearly remember not belonging in the front seat. It belongs, or rather lives, in my trunk, along with its trunk neighbors, which were in various states of not being in the trunk. Those who know me will know that I am probably the worst car housekeeper in the Baltimore-DC Metro area. My first thought was, “Oh. Shit.” Not because I was pissed about the break-in, but because I realized that cleaning up the glass would begin with cleaning out all of the crap in my car first, something I was unprepared to do at that moment.

The reasons why I win in this situation:

1. The would-be thieves are apparently not into sexy vampire books, sewing boxes full of makeup, freshman psychology texts, David Sedaris audio CDs, or BCBG high heels (black), so they left them all behind.
2. I had stopped keeping my GPS in my glove box about 2 weeks prior.

3. They really, really thought they got something good because the box to my iPhone was in the glovebox due to some ridiculous notion I had that I might need it later. It was on the floor on the passenger’s side, and you just know they saw it and were PSYCHED, but then opened it and were decidedly unpsyched.

If I had broken into my car and been convinced I would find sweet, sweet electronic devices due to the tremendous amounts of car charging devices and found exactly nothing, I would have done more than just smash the window.

Bonus: about a month prior, after the mirror incident, I had changed my auto insurance deductible to $0. Zing!

k.