The sense of smell

I’m staying at home today with a complete sense of abandon. There are things that I should be doing, but I am going to write. I owe two poems to my buddy in the poetry challenge and I have good and meaty notes in my journal but I haven’t sat down to write them because it does involve delving in, not only to the language but to the experience. I’m going to do that today. In addition, I’m going to do some submissions and some organizing and editing of my work. I also have a review to finish and I’d like to spend part of the afternoon reading. These are all good things. This is what the school vacation is supposed to be about.

I put on my favorite sweatshirt this morning sitting down to do my email and it smelled. Not of food or smoke or the outdoors, the things that my clothes usually smell of, but from sweat. I realized that I put it on after I worked out with my Army-captain-friend yesterday. I hadn’t picked it up since then, but apparently I am working out enough that I work up a stink and enough of a stink that it transfers to my clothes. I find this delightful. It’s odd, I realize, but it is somehow validating about the work outs. Certainly, my muscles are sore and I feel the effects of working out, but smelling it this morning was wonderful. Amid my writing, I’ll do a load of laundry, but for now, I’m sneaking into the bedroom periodically to smell this sweat of my labor. This lingering testament to the time in the gym.