 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
Proof of my insanity
I cannot escape the smell of candles! Anywhere I turn I smell the heavy scents of vanilla and caramel and almond spice and frankenberry, and it is at its worst at the table and the stove, adulterating any prepared food I happen to make with the faint lingering taste of candle wax. Upon entering the house after being out for any period of time I am immediately confronted with a nauseating wave of it all. Now, to escape it, I contemplate playing ambiguous spy-mission soundtracks and climbing up the porch columns, hoping they don't collapse under the combination of my weight and their rotting state, tip-toeing across the fake shingles of the saggy porch roof and slipping quietly into my peaceful, wax-free saftety area otherwise known as my bedroom. But, for various reasons including my wariness of going anywhere near that critter-infested porch and my inability to climb to save my ass, I am always forced to take some deep, calming breaths, taking the concrete steps in front of the front door one at a time, promising myself that karma really does love me and the candle wax will not depreciate my poor ravaged soul to the point of doom and destruction, among other things. So with a great feeling of gloom and anguish, I reach out to the plastic door handle, take one last breath of candle-free air, and enter my own home. I think this must certainly be the surest was to go completely bonkers, but at least when I go I'll smell nice. -Adrienne
E-mail
+ Notes
+ Book
+ Domain
+ Xanga Everything
here is © Adrienne
Wolter 2001-2007, unless otherwise noted. Do not steal, and
do not be offended. |
