It had arms
and legs and was carrying a beige handbag. It was in a yellow
cable knit sweater even though it's June. And, the thing that really struck me,
it was wearing a gold locket.
I didn't move though. She, the
ashtray, is probably a lonely widow who rides the bus to nowhere in
particular and then goes home at night to watch Wheel of Fortune and
smoke.
Poor thing. I didn't want to be rude by switching seats. So, I just sat there
and held my breath. A couple of times I tried to get a whiff of my
laundry detergent by sniffing my shoulder. It didn't really work.
Today, I'm grateful ~
1/ That I have H to go home to and watch stupid game shows.
2/
That I don't have the toe situation of the person sitting on the other
side of me. Let's just say that when your toenails get to be that long,
cut them! Do not paint them red.
3/ That the bus got me where I needed to go for only $2.25. Gas mask and blinders obviously not included.
Follow me and my yearlong project, Stop and Blog the Roses: One Spoiled American's Year of Living Thankfully, on Twitter @fernronay.
Filed under: Gratitude Journal, Life & Style, Public transportation, Wellness
Tags: ashtray smell, bus, Gratitude Journal, Life & Style, old lady, Wellness
I don't think they know they smell like ashtrays. I have a friend who smokes a couple of packs a day and my dog won't even go near him. He always says, "He just doesn't like me" and I'm thinking, "I can smell your hands from five feet away, he's a dog with an excellent sense of smell, why would he want you to touch him?" It's offensive. For the record, I would have changed seats, why suffer?
That's hysterical!! and gross!!
You're right. They have no idea...
Thanks for the comment!!