Zoo Poo

Ew.

Ick.

Yuck.

I just got back from a little errand to the post office.  Being that I arrived a mere 20 minutes before closing time, it was packed. I'm glad the post office was my second stop on this little whirlwind trip down the street; otherwise, I would have missed the UPS pick-up time for my very important papers that I had to drop off at the UPS drop-off.  Phew.  What a relief.  I always feel like a sage when I choose to do something like go to the UPS place first and the post office second where I find that that there's going to be a long wait.  Go me.  Way to plan!  (Of course, we're not going to consider the fact that I had my packages ready to go by 10:30 this morning and managed to waste the majority of my day in a "meeting" that I technicially crashed just for kicks, which resulted in my missing a phone call that I told someone they could make (to me) today (though, in all fairness, I really thought they'd call in the morning before I left for my important meeting after which I decided to treat myself to a "coulda been" delicious melted cheese sandwich), but none of this plays into my tale today).

Back to the post office.  I walked in and the woman who would be my line buddy gave me an odd look of welcome.  She was older and supported her weight on a cane, while holding a large box (presumably to be mailed) in her other hand.  Her clothes were covered in lint or cat hair or something.  I didn't pay her much mind.  Then someone else came in after me and engaged me in small talk about the length of the line.  Then, I smelled poo.

My eyes got all shifty as I tried to pinpoint the origin of the stench.  There were a couple dauchsunds at the front of the room.  Could they smell like poo?  The smell kept wafting in and out.  Maybe I was imagining it.  Back again.  Hmm..I wondered if it was me for a second.  I mean, I am sporting 5-day old hair today...and my jeans probably would have been better off in the hamper than enduring a quick Febreze fix on the way out the door.  But no.  I most certainly was not the origin of the offensive odor.  There are plenty of times when I certainly could be.  I do have a habit of not showering if I don't absolutely have to (read: be around others).  Still, no.

Was it the baby in the carriage in front of the woman in front of me?  I pondered that for awhile as the little dogs left the premises.  The line moved, and the smell was back.  I kept trying to back away from it so the people behind me didn't think I was the bearer of this atrocious scent.  And then, I faced the grim reality.  It was the lady in front of me.  But what was the smell--aside from bad?

Well, I went through a number of things.  Poo?  It definitely smelled like poo.  But not pet poo.  It kind of had the smell of stale old poo.  Musty poo.  But how could it be?  She wasn't homeless.  Crazy, perhaps, but not homeless.  And, as far as I could tell, her pants weren't soiled (and I've been behind that action before, so I know what that smells like).

As I stood there in line, trying to avoid the stench, but also trying to place it (which really put me in an uncomfortable place nose-wise), I finally figured it out.  It smelled like zoo poo.  You know, like when you go into the indoor area of the hippo quarters where they swim around with enormous birthday-cake-sized poo, and the whole place stinks of it.  Could she be a zookeeper?

No, she struck me as more of a crazy cat lady.  Then, I sensed another smell.  Old cigarettes.  Perhaps she was a smoker?  Yeah, probably.  But that wasn't the only smell.  The lady smelled like zoo poo, and if it weren't so important to me that I mail off the chocolate chip cookies that I baked yesterday (if for no other reason than to get them out of my house, so I stop making meals out of them and eating them as bedtime snacks, which leads me to wake up at 3am feeling all sugar-buzzy for hours), then I might have bailed on the line.  But I couldn't.  And I was so close to the front.

I don't know what kind of complicated transactions people do at the post office, but, as I've pointed out before, it is very similar to the time-consuming transactions that took place at the Bank of China while I waited 90 minutes to exchange $50.  Maddening.  And when there's a foul stench next to me?  Unbearable.

Finally, the two people at the counter cleared away, and Zoo Poo and I were able to be helped (seperately, but at the same time).  The zoo poo smell lingered, and I worried again that it might be me (or it got stuck on me somehow), but then...there was a glorious smell.  Vanilla candle.  Oh thank you postal employee for burning a vanilla candle earlier in the day!  What a relief.

My package was mailed, and I high-tailed it out of there.  No more zoo poo.  Then I went to the bakery next door even though I wasn't hungry and the last thing I wanted was a cookie, or cupcake, or cheescake, or muffin, or scone, or tart.  But, I just had to go somewhere that smelled nice.  And then I just had to buy a Mexican Wedding Cookie and a Quake Cookie (oh, delicious chocolate hazelnut cookie covered in powdered sugar--so chewy, so decadent, so right.) because it would be rude not to.  Sure I ate my weight in chocolate chip cookies yesterday (and treated myself to one this morning with my eggs), and I did look in the mirror the other day only to be confronted with a complete stranger because I KNOW that I'm not that chubby, but I really had no choice.  When the girl got my cookies, she offered to put them in different bags.  I'm not sure why (aside from being nice) since they're 1) cookies, 2) not soup, 3) both are covered in powdered sugar, 4) not at risk to contaminate each other with their flavors since one is chocolate hazelnut and the other is pecan shortcake, 5) will be consumed quickly and simultaneously.  And that's how I got over the zoo poo.

Now I just need to get over the stress eating.  My pants don't fit anymore.

Bad.

Maybe I should go to the gym like I keep planning on doing, huh?

We'll see.  It depends on what bad tv is available for my viewing pleasure this evening, and if I choose to just go back to bed early.  Or if I decide that I should start obsessing about changing my life any more than I already am.

Such worries.  At least I don't have to worry about smelling like zoo poo...or do I?