Our drop off zone has 2 rows. We were in the left row. I prefer the left row because the school is on the left side so my kids don’t have to go around any cars, and they make it past the Not Tardy Line faster. To our right was a father who is family friend. He’s coached my daughters in softball, their entire family has camped with us several times, and we invite each other to holiday parties. We love this family. The wife is a nurse. He’s a computer engineer who helps our country with espionage. Oh yes he does. He even has to go to Washington DC every 6 months for a lie detector test. At parties his wife tries to get him drunk so he’ll talk about what he’s working on, but he never talks dammit.
He and his wife have two children at this school. Their daughter is in 4th grade with my older daughter, and their son is in his final year at our school in 8th grade. This particular father has a passion for cars. Today he was driving his red convertible corvette. Normally he drives a lifted jeep or their Denali Yukon when he’s dropping off both kids. His wife drives a convertible BMW. Did I mention he has a car fetish? In the car with him I saw his son. I asked Paula if his daughter was sick yesterday or maybe she didn't feel well since she wasn't with them. Paula said the daughter had been fine yesterday.
Paula begins to say how MUCH she loves their house because their house is so big, clean and smells so good. I raise an eyebrow from the front seat. “Our house is big and clean and smells good.” She says, “No, our house smells like garbage”.
My house does not smell like garbage. Yes, we do have a garbage can with a lid in the main part of the kitchen, which sometimes gets stinky, but overall my house does not smell like garbage.
Now she has me wondering. Have I just gotten used to the smell? You know how if you are around something long enough you become immune to it? I’m going to have to buy a
Damn her and her nose.