And it’s me.
Last night I put on my yoga outfit before class and it smelled like something died in it. Yuck.
I’m super sensitive of smells (ask my husband, I believe he called me a Terrier although that might have had to do with my Jaime Sommers hearing). I could hardly enjoy class because all I could smell was myself and I was all self-conscious that other people were growing light-headed in the vapor of my stench.
If you’ve been to many yoga classes, you might be snickering about now because there’s almost always someone in class who has elastic ideas about bathing, use of deodorant and/or wearing freshly laundered yoga clothes.
I couldn’t wait to get home, fling the clothes into the wash and fire up the spin cycle with extra pretty smelling essential oils (just a few drops, I buy my stash here.)
I figure what happened is that I tossed them to the floor last time I wore them. And then seeing them on the floor picked them up and put them on the dresser. Then seeing them on the dresser thought, “Oh these must be magically clean, I’ll put them back in the drawer.”
I’ll have to develop a whole system to prevent this from happening again.
Meanwhile, Potter adverb watch: reminiscently.