Every morning this week I have woken up with a headache. It comes and goes during the day, but mostly stays away, then it returns in the evenings. I think exercise has reached a critical point, where my metabolism and my body have to come to an agreement. If my body is going to get in better shape, it needs more rest. I’m eating better; I’m back to working out four times a week. I feel pretty healthy, still drinking at least half a gallon of water a day.

I hope rest is all I need. I have no other explanation for my blah-crankiness and desire to wring people’s necks. I’m kind of sick of trickle-down economics, and at the same time, I don’t want the truly lazy people in this country taking advantage of a system that people like my mom and brother and anyone else who works like crazy but comes nowhere near the top 5% income level could benefit from. Because that’s my impression of what a lot of people on welfare do.

I’m not watching any political ads. I AM checking factcheck.org regularly, though.

Well, to make myself feel better, I’ll post a couple photos of me and a cute boy. This is my friend, Luke, and we see each other about twice a year. He happened to be on the Hudson River cruise this past Saturday, so we hung out a bit, which was great.

The cruise was fun.
The cruise was fun.
My license put to good use. The boat was a little hard to steer.
My license put to good use. The boat was a little hard to steer.

Okay, people. My eyes are burning. My naturalization interview is next week, and I just spent the evening looking for my passport. I can’t find it. I thought I put it in the binder with my other important papers, but it’s not there. I could really use some prayers and positive vibes in that regard. I promise I won’t punch you or wring your neck. I’ll give you a great big hug instead.

Until We Meat Again

Over the past three days, I have been near three people who smell like meat. I can’t decide if it’s bologna or pepperoni or olive loaf. Yes, it’s that smell. And, while I don’t consider the aforementioned substances “meat,” I will concede they are a subclassification of meat in general. An ilk that most decidedly does not come from elk.

Who are these three people? I do not know them personally, but I will work backward chronologically and introduce them to you.

1. Wednesday, on the subway: some guy who sat by me on the 2/3 line on the way to work. I can’t remember what he was wearing, except that he had on a tan coat, and he was reading the paper. And, since I had already smelled two meat-odor emanators prior to him, I wondered if I attracted people who give off a meaty scent, or if someone invented a new perfume that smells like meat. Quasi-processed meat. The scent wasn’t quite Spam.

2. Tuesday, on the elevator up to my apartment: I looked to make sure the other passengers weren’t holding food. I couldn’t pinpoint who, specifically, was making my nostrils shudder, but the distinctive smell was in my elevator. I even smelled myself, to make sure it wasn’t me. Sometimes I smell like lemons, and sometimes I smell like basil, but even with (because of?) my skin oil, I do not smell like meat. Hmm, oil and basil and lemons. I wonder if people are blogging right now about how they stood near someone who smells like pesto.

3. Monday, in the pool: I couldn’t believe it when I climbed down the ladder into the water. I splashed water on my arms at the shallow end to get used to the temperature, and a woman who was sharing a lane with me came toward the wall from her last length and stood up beside me. She smelled like salami. Or a hot dog. From Nathan’s. It was so bizarre. I do understand that people sweat when they swim, and so I wondered if whatever she ate or drank for the past couple of days seeped through and clung to her skin. It was a strong scent, and I was surprised it overpowered the chlorine. I was so glad I couldn’t breathe like a fish.

The weather will get colder. People will add layers to their bodies and continue to pile themselves into the train. It will get more crowded, just because people are thicker. My nose often comes up to other people’s armpit level. Maybe the meat smell isn’t the worst of my worries. Maybe those people roast themselves, like on a spit in a rotisserie, or in a sauna, or on tanning beds, those being life-size George Foreman grills.

Well, maybe now it’s time to take a survey. What other smells will I encounter? (Goodness knows I’m not going to seek them out.) I’ve had enough of the meat smell. I just hope I get to run into someone who smells like a chocolate souffle. I’d even take Rice Krispie Treats. Or watermelon Bubbalicious.