I am asking you.
I swear I do Not know what to do.
I had to accept it, and with a big smile too.
The present comes from the hands, and beautiful heart, of my day job boss (yes, good bosses do exist – out of the many-many-many retail or not jobs I had, let’s say… 30 in 20 twenty years, I’ve encountered 4 good bosses. I’m lucky).
Now I’m home. The present is away from my nose. And I’m debating.
Can’t toss it away. Pollution.
Can’t use it. Smelly.
Can’t hide it. It smells.
Donating it would be a great solution, but this option comes with making up a story.
Lying, to be precise.
Might sound like a strange thing to say for a writer of fantasy, sci-fantasy and cozy mystery novels, but
I dislike lying.
Let’s dive meta-deeply here and hypothesize that… that might be why I have such a hard time finishing this ghost-related writing project…
… moving on.
Re-gift it? Burry it in the basement overcrowded spare room?
Nah. It would smell anyway.
Promise, I don’t understand the people who make that kind of self-care product sense of smell.
How can any company agree to go on and sell an over-sweet, over-floral smelly product like that? Who’s testing it? Who’s smelling it in the first place?
With all honesty, for real, I would be curious to meet those people.
Yeah, true, it would be waaayyy more useful to you if this post would be devoted to analyzing a big writing problem in order to contribute to the Writing Community.
But, yeah, I needed to rant a little.
Thanks for reading, thanks for being here. I’m grateful.
Until next time, wishing you all the good words!