Once, I begged and borrowed a Mills & Boon* from an acquaintance. When I brought it back home to read, I noticed its pages were wavy, as they sometimes get when they've been read in the bath. I opened the book and at the time it smelled like what we used to call 'scent rubbers' (it's not what you think): strong, sickly sweet and stale with having been all over the pages for god knows how long.
The conditioner I used this morning smells like that book. I am feeling ill. Feel free to say 'there there'. Just so long as you don't pour sympathy like honey or vanilla, I'm good.
__
*The book was by Charlotte Lamb, about some painter dude and some dewy-eyed free spirit, whose heart the man breaks, and who proceeds to fall in love with his son somewhere in the big bad city, and it's all very incestuous and complicated.
5 comments:
There, there.
Just so we all understand - the painter dude falls in love with his son?? I didn't know Mills & Boon had scaled such progressive heights.
??!: Hey you! Good to see you again.
km: Hmm. I must've been distraught. :D The free spirit falls in love with both father and son, though thankfully, serially and not simultaneously.
The free spirit falls in love with both father and son
Yeah, that's so much better.
//I like how a post on hair conditioner is evolving into an anthropological study of romance novels.
It is alarmingly cloying. I redeemed my bottle somewhat my pouring half of it out and filling it up with rosewater and lemon oil.
(There, there)
Post a Comment