One Musky Mouthful

Every morning, my husband wakes me by spraying cologne in my mouth.

Okay, not really. Actually, he wakes me up - at least initially - by letting his alarm go off a bazillion times. But then after that, he retreats into the bathroom (which is attached to our bedroom) to get ready for work. And most of the time, I doze off again.

In Curtis's defense, he closes the door. When he showers, I can't smell the soap. When he shaves, I can't smell the shaving cream. When he brushes his teeth, I can't smell the mouthwash. When he's on the toilet, well ... I can't smell that either (thank. The. LORD).

But when he douses sprays himself with this body spray he has? Not only can I smell it ... I can taste it. And it is beyond disgusting. Do you realize how annoying it is to literally be awoken by the taste of thickly perfumed air? Especially in the wee hours of the morning, when my mouth is all dry and gross to begin with? Blah.

It always reminds me of the time I stashed a cookie in my purse next to a flowery-scented tampon. For, like, a week. And then I remembered it was in there and was all, "Mmm! Score!" and took a huge bite ... of tampon-flavored cookie.

No human being should ever have to know that tampons and cologne taste similar, y'all. Seriously.

The cookie fiasco I can avoid (and now you can too. Thank me later). But the offending body spray? Is apparently not going anywhere. I've griped brought it up to Curtis countless times, and he always just shrugs and says sorry in a way that I know he isn't sorry and he isn't going to stop using the stupid spray. "I have the exhaust fan on," he offers, like that's supposed to help. He cannot sympathize because apparently he stands in a cloud of the stuff and it doesn't bother him. But you know what? He's not mouth-breathing at the time.

Maybe next time I give him a cookie, I'll store it next to a tampon first.