You Only Wish You Were Like Me

Total Miles: Only about a mile or so

BUT WAIT!!!! I did over 25 flights of stairs and some lunges, squats and arm curls. That counts for something...right?

Here's a post I put on Facebook earlier today...

"I smell so bad I'm sitting next to the bathroom hoping people think that's what is smelling up the place."

I was sitting in Chick-fil-a.
In a posh Washington DC suburb in Virginia.
After spending about 2 hours at one of the neatest, but smelliest dairy barns I've ever been in. (Which was weird in itself. Clean barns are not normally smelly.)

But this wasn't just any kind of smelly. This was Stanky kind of smelly. Scccchhhmmmeeeeelly.

The kind that soaks up into your hair.
And your nose hairs.
And your pores.
The kind of Schmelly that makes you nearly fall out of the shower when you jump in with the hot water & steam running.

I normally would not go in to a restaurant and eat in this kind of condition. However:
1) I was hungry!
2) I really wanted to wash my hands.
3) I wanted a salad. I have yet to master the eating a salad while driving maneuver. And
4) I needed some WiFi to send read some emails with attachments and respond to them.

So, the poor people of Posh Chick-fil-a got a bad taste in their mouth today thanks to me - because you know taste is about half smell anyway.

To make my day complete, I had to drive about 2+ hours to my next farm visit in West Virginia. Then another 3 hrs to Mi Casa for the night in Altoona, PA. But if the story were just about driving another 5 hrs, then it wouldn't be on this blog now would it?

At some point today....after Chick-fil-a-Stank-a-thon and before West Virginia farm visit, I had a craving for peanut butter M&Ms. I blame the cashier at the gas station that took 4 minutes to take each individual banana out of the box and place into a basket - while I was staring at the M&Ms, because I didn't want to stare directly at him. Too bad he wasn't stocking the M&Ms. This day may have ended better.

What I did not realize was that at some point during the drive and me snacking on M&Ms, I dropped one in my seat. Not a green one. Not a blue one. Not red. Not yellow. But brown. It had to be brown. I realized it about 7pm when I stripped down for a shower.

So, not only have I scarred the people of Posh Chick-fil-a Virginia. There are now a group of redneck West Virginian dairy farmers, a gang of Hispanic milkers and a troop of truckers that firmly believe that I shart myself. They had the smell and the stain to prove it.

I have no shame.

Gotta run...