Smelly and creepy? Comfort is not a domino effecting hygiene. I was at the laundromat tonight.

WHY DON'T PEOPLE BATHE? I'm not talking about the shower-less, about the homeless, the disenfranchised. I'm talking about people with gainful employment who do not with any regularity lather up the lavender-scented French-milled soap. Not even the damn Ivory.

Tonight? Smelly man in the laundromat. My gender may have more flaws than a safety glass storefront window after a Chevette rams in (I cannot explain why Chevette came to mine) but, with notable and distasteful exception, we wash.

And don't be saying, but Sarah, it was a laundromat as if that were an excuse for layered on clinging noxiousness. We all have various oddly exotic outfits. I love mine and wear them to the laundromat--wrinkled mismatches I wish we could wear on formal occassions; in brief, the laundromat is not Fashion Week.

But comfort is not a domino effecting hygiene. Be ever slovenly of garb. Of body be even relatively smell-free. This laundromat guy stank. I guaranty it wasn't a one-off.  He was a type. I've worked with them.

They always have modulated voices in freakish contrast to their appearance and odor. Often their jeans droop to show hairy butt crack. Their hair is vicious, a wild animal, hating. 

They are rank. They are rank and in the laundromat. I issue a fatwah on smelly men (and the occasional woman).  Their odor near--near my fluffed variables? Euuuuuu and feh.