Last week, workers were renovating the courtyard in front of my apartment. The flower beds were uprooted and prepped for AstroTurf, “thick and lush looking stuff” as the property manager put it. The underside of the 2nd level walkway was painted with potent, toxic paint that I could smell in my living room. I had to block this infecting odor from intruding my personal space… and this is how roses played such an important part of my life last week.
I went to Central Market with a strict, groceries only mindset. An hour later, after being lost in a myriad of expensive, organic deliciousness, I walked to the check-out area. The antique, comforting smell of the roses in the floral department overtook me. The prices were so enticing yet deceiving simultaneously. I lost all focus and had only one thought, my apartment reeks of paint! I set my buggie aside and walked right up to the gorgeous foliage. Garden roses and antique roses… my nose was in nasal heaven. If I had been a hound dog, I would be doing that point with the legs thing.
Naturally, and in accordance with any other obsession, I wound up taking home an abnormal number of breathtaking buds. My house was now filled with a welcoming aroma that karate chopped that offensive stench! It creates a sense of “fabulous” to have such lovely blooms sitting on my desk.