A Thirty-Something Life: Stinky Feet

The other day (2010, actually) I was minding my own business at work (I mind my own business quite a lot!) when later in the afternoon I started to smell something funny. Pretty bloody smelly, actually. It smelled like stinky feet after an hour playing basketball. I immediately assumed it must be my feet.

You see, I had recently destroyed my brown boots which I've had for many years. It was a good companion. But I was not expecting all the snow this year, nor the accompanying salt. The salt had eaten into the leather of my boots and no vinegar/water combo would help that. I tried buying leather protector which only served to destroy my boots further as the sealant magnified the salt-eaten leather by painting it a bright shade of white that even I was impresssed with.

So, anyway, back to the story. The stinky feet...As I was still wearing these now awful-looking boots, I started to think that the chemical reaction I had jumpstarted had somehow reached my socks and was causing them to stink. It was very embarassing, because I assumed everyone could smell it. So I went to the bathroom and smelled my booted feet. No smell. My feet were not the culprit.



Époisses de Bourgogne



I returned to my desk and the smell was there again. I looked over to my colleague. Under his desk was a gym bag. Aha! THIS must be the culprit. Dude forgot to empty out his stinky clothes from last night's workout. Yucky! I was not impressed, but held my tongue.

But when he left later that day, the smell lingered. I should have known it wasn't him. He's Asian after all!

So I rifled through my desk, thinking that I had perhaps left some food in one of the drawers. I opened each drawer and sniffed, like a dog on a walk (thankfully most of my colleagues had already left for the day). I went through each of the three drawers twice. Finally it seemed as though the smell was coming from the bottom drawer, where I had my lunch bag. I thought back to what I had eaten that day and couldn't put the pieces together. I started to empty out the bag and my hand encountered something soft and malleable.

I pulled it out. It was the Époisses de Bourgogne I had bought the night before at Première Moisson.

This lovely cheese is now stinking up my fridge, where it belongs!