I stand in the aisle telling myself that I am not in fact, ridiculous. The selections are bountiful. The scents range from pleasant to what I can only describe as mind numbing. Off comes every cap and with a whiff, I can tell if it will or will in fact not grace his armpits.
For some reason, in our marriage, I am slated with the purchase of my husband’s deodorant. As never does a swipe hit my underarm, I cannot be slated to remember what brand and manly scent I purchase each visit to that aisle. So a selection is made and he goes on his merry way not stinking up the joint, thanks to me.
Merry Christmas to him brought us to Milwaukee for a two night hard rock extravaganza a few months later. Leaving on a Friday after work and hastily packing both myself and our eight year old dynamo all hyped up on going to Grandma’s for the weekend led to the sh*t gettin real Saturday morning as we were getting ready to go brew it up before rocking it out.
We were on a deadline with Uber. I was left with little choice. So swipe times four and we were on our way.
Two, Dove For Men, Fresh Clean scented, pair of armpits. I’d like to think more than a few degrees away from the mind numbing end of the spectrum.