We Get On

All I can think about right now is how I can sneak in a nap without making anyone angry, and by “anyone” that would be my husband, because, my friends, we are on the HOME STRETCH, and if that doesn’t test the limits of one’s mental health, I don’t know what does.

Our entire house is basically packed up and decorated with cardboard boxes and blank walls and would you believe that despite all of the evidence in the universe to the contrary, I still don’t believe that I’m actually moving? I don’t. Nope. NOT AT ALL. I think I’m going on a vacation, perhaps, to a wintry paradise. Maybe I’ll ski, maybe I won’t, but in a week or so, I’ll return to the same life I’ve had for two and a half years. Or ah, not, because our house is PACKED, y’all. And it’s all happening so fast, and as of Wednesday morning, I’ll be on the road to New England, where it’s snowed all winter long. A LOT. And I’m still bootless. I’m hoping it’s melted enough so that I can scrape off my windshield in the mornings while wearing flip flops. (I KID.)

In the meantime, I do not make a very good Lady of Leisure, as by day two, I was calling Adam to beg for errands, and I e-mailed a freelance client for some more editing work. I mean certainly, we have enough shit going on that I don’t need instructions, but after working for 12 years, I turned into mush at the thought of one or two entirely unstructured days. I did, however, have lunch with Carol on Thursday and am having lunch with Tammie tomorrow, and dude, with Carol? I had a BEER. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. I also adore her father and Carol looks even more gorgeous than she did the last time I saw her, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t recognize her, because she went and got these super glamorous bangs that make her look like a movie star, for God’s sake.

Despite being both tremendously busy and incredibly bored, I have found time to make some utterly useless observations, not the least of which is thank God Bath & Body Works discontinued the Mandarin Mango scent, because the hand soap smells PRECISELY like morning breath. Every single time I wash my hands, I find myself vaguely sniffing the air in search of the source of the stale, icky breath. Mercifully, we won’t be packing that with us, and I may even leave it for Lindsey. Perhaps it will smell good to her.

It reminds me, incongruously, of my love for Guerlain’s Aqua Allegoria Pamplelune, which is one of their lighter, less staid perfumes with notes of grapefruit, vanilla and patchouli and don’t make me talk about patchouli’s wonders again (I’ve discussed patchouli before and owe packages, I KNOW. When we move, I promise.) And while it smells delicious to me — tart and crisp, with a slightly bitter edge of pith, like a sunrise walk through a grapefruit grove — apparently to others, it smells precisely like superbad B.O. After wearing it for an entire week on a business trip, I came home to find Adam very gently asking me if I’d showered lately, because over the last few days he’d noticed I smelled … a little ripe, perhaps? And when I proffered my wrist, he nearly DIED of grapefruit inhalation and started screeching, “That’s it! That’s it! IT SMELLS LIKE SWEATY CROTCH!”

So, you know, for what it’s worth, based on my expertise as both a perfume copywriter and an avid collector: always always get a second opinion on your fragrances. While it’s most important that YOU like it, it’s also important that you not smell like sweaty balls and not even realize it.

And in additional odd segues, my diet this week has consisted almost purely of nothing more than Diet Mountain Dew, to which I am entirely addicted and have had five, count ‘em, FIVE today, and crema de leche, which is this cheap, brandless Latin candy that tastes like heaven. Or, more accurately, if you insist, it tastes like dulce de leche, because that’s exactly what it is, hardened and sliced up in one-ounce portions with a cheap blue label with no name, and I don’t think I’m being overly dramatic when I tell you that I don’t know how I’m going to go on without access to it. I’m thinking about cleaning out the entire supply at my local Walgreen’s, which is the only place I can find it, natch. They also have coco de leche, which features coconut mixed in, and some crazy coco-pineapple macaroon-type thing that sends me into swoony fits and might also be the reason my once-loose waistband on my skinny jeans is starting to feel a little tight.

Happy Monday! It’s my last day in Florida with furniture!

Also, if I owe you an e-mail, it’s because we’ve had, ah, technical difficulties around these parts, but we’re back up now.

*Kate Nash

14 comments February 24th, 2008