Thank you dear friend, Coffee Grounds.

This week at my M thru H job, the temperature was at least 110 each day that it was 90 outside, and all of the fans blew in a circular motion. And, because the wind ensued for the entire day, and because I stand in the same area of the floor all day, I could only smell one thing.

It seemed like the entire factory smelled of a rash body odor on Tuesday, and I only assumed that everyone there was sweating more than they intended on when they applied their antiperspirants before work. It was a stale kind of air that hung around, you know, because the fans were all pointed to one area, and because I stayed in the same spot all day.

On Wednesday by 8am, I muttered to one of the haggard women that I had only been to work for a few hours into the morning and that I already stunk of my own filth. After I did so, she looked back over the table and told me that it wasn't me. Then another woman told me that it wasn't me when she came over to tell me the pregnant girl who smokes was leaving early again for the fourth day in a row. I guess we should've made quarter bets for every half hour she stayed. But instead, she told me that it was my partner. And then, it came to me that everytime I'd stand outside of where the fans were pointed to that the odor would leave.

Times like this week were made so that I could go home and sniff the coffee grounds. Thank you coffee grounds, because after I showered and still felt as if I reaked of the smell of urine and a lack of shower for a week, you were there to kill off what had been brewing in my sensitive german-french nose. You're a good friend.