Mrs Elliott is out of town, visiting a potential client. I am alone in the house, tidying up.
The cleaning lady comes in the morning. I think that she judges us for our untidiness.
Roaming about the house, I empty the trash, stack our bills discount coupons receipts catalogs and course description neatly on the kitchen counter, I push warm and full wool winter socks down into the dresser drawers and close them shut, I load the dishwasher and set it to "delay run" to do its work after I've fallen to sleep, and I wonder how the messiness of the stovetop, with its stains, blobs of unknown foodstuff detritus, and explosion-shaped spatters, is interpreted.
While making a sweep through the living room I found my wife's green and yellow Ducks sweatshirt on the sofa. I pressed it against my face and breathed in through my mouth and nose. I inhaled fragrant love and warmth.
I do like the way this woman smells. I recommend to all men that they find someone who smells good to them.
For the ladies: Suck it up. I like how Mrs Elliott smells, but she generally finds me stinky.