There's a certain grocery store in town that smells like a fish market as soon as the door opens. As if the odor isn't strong enough, it gets worse when I seem to be the only person who can even detect it. There have been some people who've "validated my parking ticket", but most people just stare at me and walk on. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to smell, hear or see obvious things, yet be alone in your misery? I do.
Since the season of flower-giving is upon us, I'm giving a free tip to all potential buyers. Don't buy flowers at this store unless you want to attract every cat in town and drive every friend you've ever had away from your home. I have no desire to put them out of business, but I've already spoken to the management about moving the flowers to the other side of the store - away from "fragrant" fish. They don't understand. They can't smell it! I'm the only genius in the group. I don't get it. Who wants flowers that are saturated with the scent of crab? Do girls wear salmon patties as corsages to their Proms? No! Do people put floral arrangements in their homes to make their cats happier? To make their guests leave early? I thought we bought them because they were pretty and sweet-smelling, not to fend off vampires!
Before Christmas I decided to throw caution to the winds and buy a topiary of dried boxwoods from this fishy flower market. They were knock-offs of some pricier ones I'd bought from Restoration Hardware and I figured they'd blend in. Even though the store smelled like the dickens, I bought it anyway and could smell it all the way home. When I got it home, I placed it in the living room and tried to forget about it, but each time I walked through, I shouted, "Ugh! Yech! Eww! Oye! Ahhhhhhhh!" Dramatic, you might say, but I do react violently to offensive odors. My husband says I'm hard to live with. I'm hard to live with? He's the one who doesn't even notice when the walls are bleeding (and that happens a lot).
It seems the cement container was so porous, it was retaining the smell of every kind of fish they had. I removed it from the room, washed it down with bleach, sprayed it with every kind of product I could think of, but in the end, it was like putting perfume on vomit. To air it out, I left it in the garage throughout the holidays. Finally, it was able to re-enter the house, but not before a neighbors's cat made a beeline for it when I opened the garage door yesterday. It's been two months since I bought the blasted thing! Too bad potpourri doesn't last as long.
With Valentine's Day approaching, I think I'll make a list so my husband will make sure to choose my favorite flowers. Let's see, perhaps a nice bouquet of tuna-scented roses, daisies drenched in halibut, birds of fishy paradise, orchids misted with swordfish or hydrangeas dipped in mahi-mahi... Maybe an assortment of all of the above drizzled in sardines would really make a lady feel special. MeOW! Those are the kind of flowers to drive a kitty cat wild!
Why am I always the loner in a sea of floral fish sticks? How many times have you asked yourself that very question?