I was barely awake, pre-coffee and just trying to prepare my breakfast sandwich in the break room at work. Why do they ALWAYS sneak up on me at those moments?
A co-worker meandered in and loudly sniffed the air. She looked pointedly at me.
“Are you wearing patchouli?”
I could hear Maggie Bitter groaning in sympathy. (And yes I know only Karen gets that joke)
“No,” I said, hoping that would end it. I’m such a foolish dyke.
She stepped closer, “Are you sure? I swear I smell patchouli.”
While I don’t wear patchouli, I do use a sea salt soap that has a very distinct fragrance. I told her as much, prompting her to grab my shirt and take a big whiff.
“It smells really nice,” she said, and then gave me a look.
I wanted to scream, “Do you NOT have the first concept of personal space?? Do you not see the BAND on my left hand? We’re you dropped on your head as an infant??!”
But even I know discretion is the better part of valor. I told her about the store where I got it and told her how to get there. Then I grabbed my sandwich from the microwave and ran.
I’ve been taking a breakfast that doesn’t have to be heated these days. It’s just safer that way.
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