Aug. 6th, 2013

Even more so than I normally am, which is itself overly-sensitive by normal people's standards. Once when I was little, I was looking for my security blanket, and I sniffed across the floor like a dog to find it on the other side of a door. I hated letting Mom wash my blankie.

Anyway, today I tore my room apart today in search of the source of an odor no one else in my family could detect. I was convinced that there must be something dead under my bed. All I found under there was every purse I ever owned from middle school through college, except for the one I actually want back.

Why were they there? Why was the only purse I threw away my ugly woven rastafarian one? I used that purse as a pillow for so many in-class naps. I miss you, ugly purse whose cultural subtext I did not understand at time of purchase.

Anyway, the smell went away when I hauled the purses out, so apparently this was sort of a Princess and the Pea Situation, but instead of a pea I had several of dust-and-hair-caked old purses.

I am the Weird Smell Princess. Write me into Adventure Time.

I also found my comfiest bra from college, which I thought I'd forgotten in a hotel room senior year. This does not make sense. I've cleaned this room out like twelve times since college. I've moved five times, discarded or donated 98% of my clothes, and given away all of my original furniture.

The bra looks newer than it did when I last wore it. It was rolled up by itself in the biggest pocket of my college backpack. I remember giving that backpack away.

If you don't see this post, this was all a dream, and my room still stinks.

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