It isn’t a normal turn of events, but my feet were producing the stanky funk today, and by stanky funk I don’t mean “step off, I’m doin’ the hump: the Humpty Dance is your Chance to do the Hump”, I mean: there was a decidedly non-delicious aroma rising up from the floor in one of those visible clouds shaped like a hand. It slapped me in the face, so Lisa made a simply delightful foot bath for me with essential oils and rose petals. She said something about cypress oils and marigold extract, but all I know is that my tiny fuzzy hobbit feet have turned into perfect girl feet.
Armed with pleasant aromas and a Summit EPA I dropped a bomb on my CSci 4011 homework.
I don’t know what I will do to recover my masculinity. I guess that I will have to think about it while I soak in the tub. Maybe I will have some wine and read a romance novel. Oh me! No, I can’t go soak in the tub, because my hairy man-boobs (pectoral muscles!) might turn into a heaving alabaster bosom - and then I would have no reason to ever leave the house again. Oh bosom!