monday morning syndrome, redux

I’m doing something entirely unlike me and wearing perfume this morning.

I should clarify, it’s not by choice.

No, I had the bright idea that I would give the bathroom a quick scrub-down after my shower… and in the process of being so industriously clean I managed to knock a box of random make-up and perfume samples off the vanity. And, of course, one of the perfume samples shattered all over the floor, in that nasty spot behind the toilet.

Oh, don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s that scrubby, dusty and slightly damp spot way in the back, the one you can’t touch with a mop, the one that’s really hard to reach without getting down on your hands and knees, squeezed in the tiny gap between the vanity and the toilet, where you’re forced to make out with the toilet brush until you find what you’re looking for…

It’s the spot you basically forget about until you drop a perfume sample back there. You know the one.

The end result: My bathroom smells like a grandma, and I smell like I marinated in grandma-juice.

(And did I do the smart thing and throw away the box of unused samples right then and there? Noooooo. Because you never know when you might need that six-year-old tube of Burt’s Bees décollete cream! Or the revitalizing eye mask! Or a quick sniff of Eau de Grandma!)

Pack rat what?

It may be Tuesday, but this has Monday Morning Syndrome written alllll over it.


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