Still at my parents’. And being home has afforded me the opportunity to take care of my mom, but also to work out a ton, and run a lot. Like. To the point where I have become so sexy, that my Raleigh friends are gonna be all “Whaaaaa” when I roll up in my Lancer.
So I’m running yesterday. And I really’d hit my groove. Cruising down this hilly country road. About a mile-and-a-half from home. And it hits me.
Evidently, there’s a some sort of *ahem* poo treatment plant hidden behind the hills of gorgeous Weddington. It’s pretty steamy out here, and I guess it, like, cooked the smell. Because midway through my run, I literally doubled over, and had to feebly cover my nose with a finger as the smell of steamed poop assaulted me. So much for the thrilling, reflective, country run I was going to blog about.
Then I go to wash all my stanky clothes I’ve built up from the last week. Pull them out after they were washed. Did the sniff test. And they still stank. Pretty girls don’t smell too pretty, right Tyra? (10 points for anyone who can name the Top Model candidate who said that). And I left my Sport Wash back in Raleigh, so I had to fashion some out of white vinegar, and Wisk. Ugh. Good luck to me. Running is not for the faint of heart.