Smelly Feet

There are certain smells that are bearable because they are yours and only yours. You can get near a person and smell their scent and "eh" it's ok, this is their unique smell, then another person comes and you smell moth balls, their signature scent, like a mall perfume, after that each time you smell moth balls you remember that person. You have an opinion, it is your right. Keep that in mind for a second.
On the way to pick up Mike D, I called my hubby, his cell phone is dying, mine is too. So we race to my mother's house. I pull up and he is there, I walk in and Mike D is asleep. My mom tells us we can go to dinner, as long as it's not her favorite restaurant Miguel's, my husband says "Miguel's it is!", she threatens to throw a shoe at him. We leave and eat.
I rush home, I have time to spare to go out and buy a book, an erotica I have been dying to get my hands on. I kick off the heels, yes like men do, and they fly away, where they land I don't know. I sit with my husband and force him to print my coupon for the bookstore. Grab it and run, we are talking erotica people.
Well, I didn't really run, I lost a heel, so I slipped on some ballerina slipper flats, not real ballerina, this body doesn't Pilate's, it pivots from side to side. The flats were stuck in the corner of the closet, and they were there for a reason, but time was limited, so the shoes went on.
I get my book, go to my mom's to get the baby, have my sister tell me how lucky I am because my mother was ready to kill my child. Out of nowhere my mom appears, "Oh you're here." She looks are Mike D with a broom in hand, "Bye Michael." She waves and looks at me, "He was ready to walk out to the back yard with two glasses, I stopped him, then came the attack." I looked at Mike D, dried snot all over his face, his wife beater was off a shoulder, he looked like Cheetah, with the Tarzan dress thingy, like the cave men, with one shoulder on, the other off. Very wild looking, he looked at me looking at him and showed me all his teeth.
I get home to a hubby watching the game, the laptop nowhere near him. I gesture for the laptop and he pulls it to his lap and opens it up, automatically going to the news page. I sit and wait.
Think me think, then get up for a moment, take off my magical slippers and sit right back down next to him. After 45 seconds, he starts to look around, not quite a convulsion but definitely a reaction due to a change in the air. He looks at Juno, I look at him waiting for him to turn over the laptop.
"Oh my god, do you smell that?" He continues to look at the dog, then he notices that I am grinning from ear to ear. He sniffs in little motions, as to not inhale too much, like it's lethal or something.
"Oh my god, it's your feet. Oh my god!"
"Oh please, just sit still for five minutes and you will be immune to the smell." I retort and giggle uncontrollably.
"Woman, it's been ten years and I still can't get used to it."
I lean over and grab ahold of my snuggie, and wrap my feet around it. "There, better?"
"No, not better, I use that as my covers when I watch TV, now I have to burn it."
Finally, he hands me the laptop and I log onto Facebook, ready to blog, but nothing to blog about, or so I thought. I fiddle with the laptop and he stomps away, huffing and puffing, probably not inhaling.
"Jersey Shore is on tonight." He says as he walks away, knowing I am excited for the next episode.
"Oh man, I gotta run and get ready to watch it in peace."
"Yeah, it's on Wednesdays right?" He looks at me and sticks his tongue out.
Dumb ass, it's tomorrow.
"You moron, you knew..." I shut up, pick up my slippers, hoping that they begin to grow mold and ferment in the closet, waiting for me to pull them out next time he pulls his shit.
For now I just sit and wait for the ammo to prepare itself.
Just like those idiots on Call of Duty, he is gonna be looking around doing something stupid and then outta nowhere BAM stinky feet.