Up until a few minutes ago I
stank. Really, really smelled. I like to think I came by that smell
honest. I spent three days living in
tents with some friends, spent one day hiking, one kayaking, and cooked three
greasy meals over a campfire (although I am still a vegetarian, I made tons of
burgers and bacon for my friends). On
the long drive back home Mrs. Slap & I both found our mutual stanks to be
completely egregious. I type this
freshly showered, but there is still a patina of grease, dirt, and pond water
that is sneaking its way into my nostrils.
If I smelled that bad after three days
in the woods, what the heck did mountain men smell like after a beaver
season? What about buffalo hunters in
the killing fields? Mrs. Slap often says
that it’s a good thing movies don’t include smell-o-vision; seems doubly so for
Westerns.
