If not now, when?

One American woman. Twenty acres and a 1650 farmhouse in Tuscany. Random introspection and hilarity, depending on the day.

23 December 2006

Mmmmm, it must be ... eau de fume

My brand new blackberry/cellphone had a meltdown last week. Though I do generally have a bad aura with all things electrical, 40 days from out of the box to totally dysfunctional is a new record. It MUST have been defective from the start (that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)

So I packed it, lovingly, up into a small box, nestled with a bunch of styrofoam wrap, and send it back to HQ at ye-ole-day-job, via FedEx ('when it absolutely, positively, has to be there... in four days, we hope.'), into the hands of my emminently useful tech dude, who we call Doc.

Doc instant-messaged me upon its arrival, to say that when he opened the box, it smelled "all smoky and rustic... "

At which point I realized that either he's got the nose of a bloodhound or ... EVERYTHING I OWN (which isn't a whole lot) smells like I just came home from the Girl Scout Jamboree. This is the danger of the giant fireplace that's used not just for ambiance, but for actual heat. I suppose here, everyone is kind of immune ... every house has an open fireplace or two, burning from dawn 'til well past dusk every day. But if after 4 days in transit, 2 little pieces of styrofoam were still so pungent, then I'm sure every piece of clothing I own has been completely permeated.

On the long list of qualities that Mr. Right should have: I clearly need to add "gets turned on by the smell of campfires."

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2 Comments:

Anonymous Judith in Umbria said...

Lesson: never visit the US in winter. Those folks think we smell like homeless who hang around blazing barrels. I had clothes cleaned and sealed in plastic last time, because the complaints were embarrassing.

12:33 AM  
Blogger I'm Just a Girl said...

I love the campfire smell! But I probably don't count as a potential Mr. Right, either.

Hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Miss ya...

4:24 PM  

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