need a little advice…
Someone’s feet stink.
While I might be prone to hyperbole, I can honestly say that it’s the sixth worst smell I’ve ever encountered. Literally.
We were watching TV when I first noticed it. I thought that it might be me. Mortified, I scrubbed my feet all the way to lemony freshness. Returning to the scene of the crime, I realized. No. This pungent aroma emanates from another source.
Ugh. The smell. It’s the kind stench that takes up residence in your nostrils, and adds an extension throughout the rest of your nasal cavity. No exaggeration. Worst of all, it got in my mouth. I gargled for a good ten minutes trying to get clean. Nauseating. Simply nauseating.
I was hoping that it was a one shot deal. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. If hope is a thing with feathers, my thing flew the coop. My luck, it’s probably a chronic, summer stink, or maybe a glandular thing. Either way, his absolute ignorance of the tang is mind boggling.
Can he not smell that? I mean, really! Does he think that I can’t?! Did I mention that he likes to put the duo of rankness on the coffee table? Good grief.
So how does one kindly let someone they know and love that their feet either need to be decontaminated, or hacked off and tossed in with the rest of the rotting compost? Let me know. Meanwhile, I’ll be waiting over here.