I may have grown up around three sisters and the most interaction I had with the male gender when I was little was my awesome Dad, but I've always known that boys smell. It's something you learn in Girl 101: boys smell and have cooties. I must have skipped the day when we learned that boys never stop smelling.
Lyndon spent about two weeks after his "two weeks away" working at the armory and such. Since it was late July/early August weather, there was a lot of sweating going on during the day. I didn't give that a second thought, so when he came home he threw his uniform in with the rest of the dirty laundry. One morning, I awoke to a strange scent coming out of our closet. What I soon discovered was that his work clothes had stunk up the place. Granted, it was my fault that I had put off doing laundry, but in my defense we didn't have any quarters.
After enduring a nice session of gagging at the waves of terrible drifting out of the closet, I had to sort out all of the clothes. It was like digging for buried treasure and that treasure was rotten garbage. Some of it was still wet! I mean, come on. I located all work clothes and some of our stuff that had been contaminated because of close proximity and threw them in plastic bags. They sat outside until it was time to wash so as not to spread to the entire apartment.
New rule around here: any clothes that are wet from sweat are not allowed to socialize with the rest of the dirty clothes. They have to go and sit in a time out in another room until dry.
