Yesterday, I was reading about how Prince keeps (or at least he did back in the day) a perfume bar in his bedroom and how he used to blend fragrances on his body, depending on his mood. I know that the scent thing goes all the way back to the ancient Africans and Persians, but how many dudes do you know in this day and age that have a perfume bar? Prince is a, um, sensual man (not to mention creative), but that is a hard thing for me to picture at this moment..
This afternoon, however, I was presented by a fragrance of a different kind. I was in the middle of my Sunday afternoon “me” time lounging in my bedroom when my eight year old comes running up the stairs. Unfortunately, the scent du jour was smoke, and I got a good and hearty whiff before he even got to where I was. He proceeded to tell me how his younger brother didn’t really mean it, but he had got hungry, heated up some garlic bread in the microwave, and now there was smoke everywhere. Once I was sure my home was not on fire, we had a nice discussion about taking responsibility for our actions and not cooking when grownups aren’t around. That boy had set up the microwave to cook his bread for 68 minutes. I still smell smoke. The plate looks like it burned too.
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