Thoughts From the Porn Store: Crazy Morning.
I've had a really weird morning. First off I lost about a half an hour getting ready today - one minute it was 8:10am, and I was squinting at The Man's calculations, and the next it was 8:40 and I really, really needed to leave. I was running early at that point and had planned to get a danish for my breakfast from the German Bakery of Pancreatic Doom, but only just made the bus. Which was free, for some reason. Then I had a little Asian lady on the Annerley bus start up a convo about my awesome parasol, during which she questioned my ethnicity and decided to get one for herself, which resulted in some hard-core ESL hand-gesturing. She's actually pretty cool, if a little touched - she's on that bus 9 Sundays out of 10, and gets off at my stop, and we've had chats before.
But by far the weirdest thing happening to me so far is the smell in my shop. The aircon here is entirely broken with the exception of the thermometer on the front, and it's telling me that it's 32 degrees celcius in here at the moment. I believe it. I'm sweaty, the customers are sweaty, hell, even some of the toys are starting to look sweaty too. The place should smell like an All-Black's armpit, but instead the place has this inexplicable ambrosial sweetness, part jasmin, part gardenia, with a mercurial base-note that eludes me. It's never been present before, and initially I thought it may have originated with a well-dressed lady who came in an hour ago, but she's long since left and it's intensified. Maybe the guys next door are bubble-bathing the Quicky-Lube. Who knows? At least it's a nice smell.
But by far the weirdest thing happening to me so far is the smell in my shop. The aircon here is entirely broken with the exception of the thermometer on the front, and it's telling me that it's 32 degrees celcius in here at the moment. I believe it. I'm sweaty, the customers are sweaty, hell, even some of the toys are starting to look sweaty too. The place should smell like an All-Black's armpit, but instead the place has this inexplicable ambrosial sweetness, part jasmin, part gardenia, with a mercurial base-note that eludes me. It's never been present before, and initially I thought it may have originated with a well-dressed lady who came in an hour ago, but she's long since left and it's intensified. Maybe the guys next door are bubble-bathing the Quicky-Lube. Who knows? At least it's a nice smell.