The mystery of the stinky church lady

This past Tuesday night, I went to a Bible study at church. It was only the third meeting and my leader was nice enough to wave me over to sit at her table. We have a talk as a big group before we split into smaller clusters. My cluster group is learning to use photoshop, which was a big draw for me. The teacher is super nice, and I didn't know her before signing up for the class.

So, I sit down just as the talk is starting. I'd been rushing around like a mad hen all day and we had a group of plumbers here drilling a hole big enough for a man to climb into right in the middle of our bedroom floor. Oh joy. This was an after affect of the foundation work. The good news is that they found the leak and fixed it. All is now re-concreted. The bad news is that the dudes tipped my dresser over putting it back in place, whereby all of my drawers careened out and getting scratched and dented. Our bedroom furniture is our only really "good" furniture, as it came from Ethan Allen, and I have been protecting it from dings for twenty two years. Oh well. This was a good lesson to me that things are only things. (And dings are only dings.)

Anyhow, back to the story. so I perch myself on the seat. They keep the church at arctic temperatures and for once, I'd remembered to grab a sweater, so I threw it on and settled in to soak in the lesson. Next thing I know a faint odor wafts past my nose: eau de stale, unshowered, and mildewy person. Oh boy, I think, some poor soul here needs some help in the hygiene department. A minute later, I get out a pen to take notes, and dropped it. As I bent down to grab the pen, my nose brushed against my sweater and the odor was much stronger. Oh My Lordie, I think -I am the stinkpot. I must have put this sweater away damp last winter, as I always wash my sweaters before putting them up, and it has mildewed. To make matters worse, the seats are packed together, so I am practically sitting on my teacher's lap. 

I nonchalantly whip off the sweater and stick it under my seat. No good. I then stuff it into my computer bag. The odor never really leaves completely. Finally, we break to go to our classrooms. I linger so as to ascertain the situation. After a thorough sniff test, I am relieved to find that the sweater as well as my jeans and top smell as fresh as a daisy. Yeah - I am not the stinky one after all, I silently shout, mentally patting myself on the back.

I skip off to class. Once I'm settled, the odor returns. What? I figure it's got to be the lady beside me. (How easy it is to assign blame to others.) I spend the entire class feeling sorry for her. Finally it's over and I dashed outside. As I'm turning my ringer back on, I drop my phone and it slides under a car so I crouch down and practically crawl under the car to find all the parts, which have scattered. Curiously, as I am squatting, the smell is back stronger than ever. I am the only person nearby.

I gather the parts and climb into the car confused. Then it hits me. Of course. I'd sniffed everything but the flip flops. My favorites for eight years running. I'd slammed on as I'd left the house. I'd worn them in Hawaii and plopped them, wet from the beach and showers, into a plastic bag to jam into our suitcase as we headed to the airport on our last day, where they'd sat baking for 24 hours. QG had been the one to unpack them and he isn't exactly the most observant person when it comes to his sense of smell. I slipped my right flip flop off and slowly brought it up to my nose. Words cannot describe the wall of odor that hit my nostrils, but dead, mildewed opossum comes close. How embarrassing.  I was the stinky saint after all. Not only that, but my fav flip flops are ruined beyond redemption. 

Despite the curriculum,  my lesson on Tuesday's was Humility. All part of the journey, I guess. I considered emailing my classmates to apologize and explain, but decided it's better to let sleeping dogs lie. If any of them are reading this, I am sincerely sorry for stinking up the entire church.